Where the Wild Things Are
by colormetheworld
Summary: "I'll eat you up, I love you so" Strong T
1. Chapter 1

1.

Barold Frost comes to see her in the morgue the day after they close the case. She has been the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for 21 days, and she has just finished the paperwork on her first successful case with that title. The knock on her door catches her off guard, and she looks up from her laptop, slightly confused.

"Detective Frost!" her voice is a little more harsh than she wants it to be. It is a problem she has whenever she's nervous. Usually it turns other people off, but the detective continues to stand in her doorway, his easy smile not faltering. He's holding a thick manila folder in both hands, held up to his chest like an offering, and for a moment, she thinks that she's forgotten something having to do with their case.

"Hello, Dr. Isles," he says politely. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"  
Maura shakes her head, wondering if she should stand and go to him. Her mother always instructed her to greet her guests at the door, but that seems far too formal for this setting.

She settles for standing and going half way, gesturing him across the threshold.

"Not at all," she says. "Come in. What can I do for you?"

Frost takes a couple steps into her office and then stops, unsure. "I…" his eyes flick down to the file in his hands. "I was hoping you'd take a look at something for me?"

The last part comes out as a question, and Maura watches him shift nervously, waiting for her reply.

"We should sit," she says, moving towards the little couch that sits just inside the door. "You're nervous."

Frost's eyes jump to meet hers, and for a moment, she feels the heat of humiliation that comes with saying the wrong thing.

"I just meant," she begins, but Frost gives a weak laugh, and lets himself fall onto the couch with not a small bit of relief.

"No," he says quickly. "You're right. I am nervous. I don't know why I should be, though. You'll either say yes or you'll say no."

Maura sits down in the chair near the couch and folds her hands in her lap. "I might also tell you I need to sleep on the matter," she says reasonably.

Frost raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Maura nods. "Yes," she says. "If it has to do with whatever is in that folder, I might need time to go over all the information. It looks like there's a lot of data there."

Frost looks down at the manila folder in his hands as though he'd forgotten it was there. The doctor studies his face, trying to discern his expression so that she can gauge the direction of the conversation. Finally, she gives up.

"Why not just jump in, Detective?" she asks, trying to make her voice as gentle as possible.

Frost swallows visibly. "Okay," he says, lifting his light brown eyes to her. "Okay. Do you know Detective Jane Rizzoli?"

Maura bites her lip.

She has heard of Detective Rizzoli. Everyone has. She looks down at the file folder in Frost's hands, feeling a little bit more apprehensive.

"I have," she says finally. "It is difficult to live in Boston and not know of Detective Rizzoli's heroism."

Frost watches her choose her words carefully, and when he is sure her sentence has come to an end, he nods. "Yeah," is all he says in response, though he looks like he wants to say more.

They sit in silence for a little bit, and then Frost takes a breath.

"She was out of the Academy when I started. Got her Detective's shield so fast," he smiles at her, but Maura can tell that he's not really seeing her. "And then that d-bag Casey…"  
Frost shakes his head, trailing off. "Anyway, the medical director that did, uh, that did Connor's autopsy."

Maura frowns at the turn in the conversation. "Autopsy," she echoes, and Frost nods.

"He's just awful, Dr. Isles. He's messy, and pompous, and he couldn't catalogue a bullet wound if the victim came back from the dead and _told_ him what happened."

Maura's frown deepens. "Surely that's an exaggeration," she says.

"Not a large one," Frost says earnestly.

Maura glances at the folder again, a realization suddenly dawning. "Detective Frost," she says carefully. "I'm aware that you may be close to Detective Rizzoli," she pauses not quite knowing how to approach the subject that appears to be at hand. "But, whatever is written in that file, I cannot alter it in anyway. For any-"

But the young man cuts her off, shaking his head vigorously. "No!" he says quickly. "No, Doctor, you misunderstand. I don't want you to alter anything."

Maura simply looks at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Jane wouldn't want that either," He says earnestly. "Honestly."

"But that is...his autopsy, yes?"

Frost's hands contract slightly on the folder. "Yes," he says quietly.

"You...want me to look at it," she tries.

Frost nods again. "I do. I want you to look at what Pike did, and his report...just to make sure it's okay."

Maura can think of nothing to say but, "It is anything but okay."

"You're right,' Frost says quickly. "But it is _really_ not okay if Pike didn't do his job competently."

Maura considers this point. She has to admit that it feels nice to have this young man imply that she is good at her job.

"Please," Frost says, clearly not above begging. "He was her everything, and...if she can't bring him back, at least she can make sure that Hoyt rots away in a cell for all of eternity."

Maura thinks about the last three weeks, about her work with Detective Frost, and how courteous and polite he'd been all through the case.

She tries to imagine Detective Rizzoli as his partner, as the brash, fearless woman that all the papers were talking about.

She tries, finally, to imagine coping with a loss of the same magnitude.

She holds out her hand. "Give me the folder."

...

2.

The first time she sees Jane Rizzoli in person, it is at the funeral for the detective's son.

She doesn't intend to go, after all, she's only been working at the Boston precinct for a little over a month. But she is in the little cafe on the first floor, putting the top on her morning cup of coffee, when dozens of officers start streaming past the doorway, towards the exit.

Maura stands in the doorway, watching, until she spots Barry Frost and he waves her over.

"What is going on?"

They push out through the main doors of the precinct and into the weak spring sun, and Maura thrills a little at the feeling of Frost looping his arm through hers as they descend the steps.

"It's the funeral," he says quietly, not wanting to disturb the somber mood of the procession.

For a moment, Maura does not understand what he is talking about, but when she does she stops walking. She has no interest in going to the funeral for the son of a woman she barely knows. She has nothing to offer to the detective in the way of comfort, and therefore her presence might be misconstrued as gawking.

She does not need a front row seat to grief she cannot ease.

But Detective Frost's arm stays linked with hers, even at the end of the staircase, and she finds herself buffeted along by the steady stream of uniforms, until the young man is holding his car door open for her. She hesitates, but finally submits. Her manners and her nerves will not let her decline.

It turns out that Detective Frost is not only close to Jane, but is also on very friendly terms with the entire Rizzoli clan. Maura is introduced to Jane's younger brothers, Frankie and Tommy, both somber faced, Frankie dressed in his officer's uniform.

She meets Frank, Jane's father, and her weeping, inconsolable mother, Angela, who hugs Maura around the shoulders upon introduction, stammering something unintelligible into the collar of the doctor's pea coat, until Tommy pulls her off.

"Jane's in the limo," Frankie says under his breath, as the rest of his family moves off. "She won't get out."

Frost blows out a breath, looking over his shoulder at the two sleek limos idling by the curb.

"How's she been?" He asked. "Any better now that she's home?"

Frankie shakes his head, glancing at Maura briefly before answering. "Worse, if anything. Ma and I went round and cleaned the room…you know, made it look less like 'Zo was just gonna rush in at any moment." His voice catches on the name, and he looks away.

Maura considers simply walking away. She feels acutely out of place, and leaving is the only resolution she can see to the problem.

But she doesn't get a chance to act on this desire. Frost steps away from Frankie and gestures at Maura to follow him.  
She does, her relief slipping into dread as they approach the second limousine, and Frost knocks on the window lightly.

"C'mon, Jane," he says, so softly that Maura thinks there's no way the woman could have heard him.

But then the door clicks and opens a couple of inches.

"Ma gone?" comes a gravelly voice from within.

"Yep," Frost says.

The door shuts with a thunk, and then reopens fully a minute later, and Jane pulls herself out from the backseat with an effort that seems herculean. She looks at Frost balefully for a moment.

"Out," she grunts. "Happy?"

Frost nods.

Jane's eyes jump suddenly to take Maura in, and for a second they just stare at each other. Maura is sure she looks terrified. Jane, for her part, looks completely blank. Empty.

"Jane, this is Maura Isles. She's the new-"

"Medical Examiner," Jane says, though there is no life in her voice and no recognition in her expression. She nods, her eyes scanning Maura's frame once. "Frost says you're the best the precinct has had in a really long time," she says dully, holding out her hand.

Maura looks at it. "That you can recall something Detective Frost has said about me, in such a trying time, is one of the highest compliments I think I've ever received," Maura says.

She doesn't take the other woman's hand, and she shakes her head once, discreetly, to show that she won't.

Jane blinks, and for a moment her expression clears. She seems to focus on Maura for just a moment, before the sound of her name being called makes her turn away.

Frost raises his eyebrows at Maura, and then offers his arm to her. "How did you know to do that?" he asks, as they head toward the rows and rows of folding chairs.

Maura looks at him. "To do what?"

"To not shake her hand," Frost clarifies. "To not tell her how sorry you are for her loss."

Maura swallows, feeling a jolt of misplaced panic. "I _didn't_ know those things," she says crossly. "You didn't tell me either of those things."

"But you knew them," Frost reiterates. "How?"

Maura sighs, unwilling to let go of her irritation, even in the face of his obvious awe. "Deduction, I suppose. I am truly sorry for her loss, Detective, but what good does that do her?" Maura shakes her head. "As for her injuries..." Maura trails off, trying to think of a delicate way to speak about the damage that she knows was done to Jane Rizzoli's hands. "As a doctor," she begins again, "I took an oath to first do no harm."

Frost doesn't answer, but she thinks she sees the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

...

3.

She breaks.

Of course she does. Maura does not see how anyone in attendance could be surprised that it happens, though perhaps, they have not been watching her as closely.

Maura finds she is unable to look anywhere else, and she stares at the detective throughout the entire first half of the service, watching her façade slowly crumble as the priest drones on.

And finally, Maura sees the moment it happens as though in slow motion, she has had enough.

Jane stands, shaking her head, pulling free of her brother as he tries to get her to sit back down.

"No," she says angrily. "No, stop."

She makes her way up to where the priest is standing, looking torn between irritation and sympathy.

"Mrs. Rizzoli," he begins quietly.

"Detective," she growls, moving so close to him that he has no choice to step out of the way. "It's detective."

Maura sees some of the officers in the back row of chairs nod appreciatively.

"I know Ma set this up because no one thought I'd be able to do it…" she half turns to face the crowds. Dead silence.

"But you're doing just…the worst job," she pauses at the little laugh this gets. She almost smiles. Maura's nails dig into the insides of her palms.

"Connor deserves better than that," she says, quietly enough that they almost miss it. For a long moment, she just stands there, looking down at the ground.

Maura is struck with the urge to go to her, though she has no idea what she would say. Next to her, Detective Frost seems to have the same thought, and he has just begun to rise from his seat when Jane speaks again, voice thick.

"'Zo hated church," she says, looking up at them, as though daring any of them to contradict her. "He would have hated this, everyone so somber. Everyone looking at this school picture of him like it shows even a tenth of his spirit, or his…" she breaks off, taking a breath.

"He was laughing…all the time. He was in charge from day one. Everyone knew it. About the time he was two, Ma had nicknamed him Enzo."

Maura is one of the only one who chuckles at this, and Jane glances in her direction, grinning.

"It means 'ruler of the house,' in Italian," she continues. "And he was, from the second he was born. He ruled everything. The house, the bullpen…my heart." Jane's hand make a helpless gesture. "Connor," the hands stop abruptly. "God, we were always late," she says exasperatedly. " _I_ was always late. He never wanted me to do anything without him. What is that called…" She looks out at them. "A Mama's boy?"

Everyone laughs, save Maura and Frost.

"His favorite book was Where the wild things are. Even when he got older and could read things on his own, that was the one he always wanted me to read before bed. God, I could do it in my sleep. I must have spent half my salary on 'Max' costumes. He wanted to be that character every year for Halloween. Even when his friends were superheroes and, uh, movie villains. He always wanted to be Max." Jane's eyes drift out of focus a little, just for the tiniest of seconds. "Except that year that he wanted to be a policeman," she says.

No one laughs at this. It seems every single person is holding his or her breath, waiting to see what Jane will say next.  
Maura wonders how many have ever seen her this way, bereaved enough to open up.

"And it became this thing, with us, whenever one of us had to go somewhere, we would say the lines of the story back to each other. He liked the part about the monsters, and the dancing, and everything, but he loved these ones the best. And we said it all the time." Jane's smile this time is genuine, expectant and excited, and Maura's heart feels close to breaking.

She can see what's coming again, see it as clear as day, and she wants to get up and yell, scream, do anything to derail the moment she knows is racing towards them like a freight train.

She does not know Jane Rizzoli from any other Detective here, but she is struck by the desire to spare her.

To help her.

"I'd go, I'd have to go, and I've be running late – God, he always made me so _late_ – and he'd be holding me around the waist or leg…" Jane laughs. "Oh please, oh please, don't go," she says, and then she looks around, expectantly.

Waiting for her son to answer.

For one, long, agonizing minute, Maura watches the realization washing over the detective's face in waves, as though the news of her son's death is brand new. As though she is hearing it for the first time.

And then Frost has left his seat, he is jogging up the aisle to where Jane stands, frozen with grief.

He grips her around the upper arm, but doesn't say anything.

Maura sees Frankie holding Angela firmly in place, preventing her from standing.

Jane clears her throat once. Twice.

"Connor…was my son," she says heavily. "He was better than every drug bust I ever made. Sweeter than any true arrest I ever had, and just…cooler than any medal I ever earned." She swallows, and Maura can see a tear fall from her eyelashes onto her cheek. She shakes her head, turning away. "I would give each and every one of those things back," she says, choking up in earnest. "Just to have him make me late one more time."

…

Maura doesn't wait for Frost to reappear. She doesn't expect him too.

She walks away from the ceremony, calls a cab to take her back to the precinct, and then takes her car to the nearest bookstore.

She only nods at the cashier, who gushes over her choice of books, "Oh, my son simply _adores_ this one!" and she waits until she's safely ensconced back in the driver's seat to crack it open.

She flips through the pages until she finds what she's looking for, and though she swallows and swallows, the lump in her throat does not dissipate.

 _Oh please, Oh please, don't go._

 _I'll eat you up, I love you so._


	2. Chapter 2

1.

Detective Rizzoli comes back to Boston Homicide on a chilly autumn night almost six months later. It is Maura's thirteenth case as Chief Medical Examiner, and as she ducks under the police tape, and heads towards the house, she is thinking only of how well she has gotten along in Boston, and about how possible it is that this job could become one that she chooses to keep for a long time.

As she walks up the driveway, she sees Detective Frost burst out of the front door and walk hurriedly towards the lawn, his face pale.

Some of the officer's standing nearby begin to snicker, and Maura watches sympathetically as Frost heaves once and is sick, barely missing his shoes. Maura stops momentarily on the gravel path, several feet from the young detective. "Breathe deeply, through your nose, when you can," she calls softly. "And move away from your vomit, so the smell doesn't affect you so."

Frost gives a weak nod, and shuffles to the side several steps, pulling in deep breaths, and Maura moves on, to the front door. He is a good detective, with a keen eye for detail and an active, inquisitive mind. He is the one detective on the force who has been consistently kind to her since her arrival, and she wishes briefly that she could find a way to help him get rid of his queasiness. She'd never found the correct way to bring it up, however, aside from scowling coldly when any of the officers made smart remarks in her presence.

The victim, a man in his mid-forties, is posed in the sitting position on the couch in the living room. He is bound with duct-tape, and his throat has been slashed almost through to the other side. This, it seems, is what made Frost vomit. Maura sighs, and puts down her bag. She had hoped, upon taking this post, that it would put among several like-minded people. She had hoped, foolishly, perhaps, that those who dealt with violence and murder on a day to day basis would share, if not her appreciation for the field, at least a strong enough constitution to endure it.

She hears voices outside, Frost's and one that she can't immediately place, and she leans closer to the body, measuring the length of the slash across the victim's throat. She is turned half away from the door, and only hears the three people enter the room. She does not look around. Almost all of the Detectives have had their rotation with her now, and they know that when she is focusing, she does not bother with unnecessary formalities.

So when Detective Rizzoli speaks, the doctor nearly drops the utensils she is holding.

"What do we have Korsak?"

It's definitely Detective Rizzoli. Maura doesn't look around, initially because she is too stunned to do so, and then because the moment for introductions has passed and it would be improper to turn and stare.

Korsak reads out the name of the man and his age, though Maura is too busy trying to regain her faculties to really hear him. She is aware of Frost, on her left, asking to leave, and then Jane's voice from the other side, like a lightning strike through haze.

"Yeah, Frost. Go ahead."

The CS tech standing next to her fidgets impatiently. She has never taken this long for a measurement before.

"10 centimeters," she says, her brain kicking back into life.

"Thank you, Dr. Isles."

She nods, hearing Korsak repeat her name to Jane. "Have you met Dr. Isles, Rizzoli? She's our new Chief M.E. Beats the hell out of Pike, I'll tell you that much."

Maura takes a breath and holds it. She decides in that instant, that if Jane doesn't remember meeting her at the funeral, then she will not remember it either, not even if it means soaking the hives she gets from lying each night. She will act as if nothing has happened. She will act as though she knows nothing of this woman's tragedy.

It is the kind of courtesy she would want extended to her, were this her first day back on the job after such pain and suffering.

Maura lets out her breath, and turns her head.

Jane Rizzoli is looking right back at her. "Yeah," she says with a half smile that reveals the suggestion of a dimple. "I remember Dr. Isles. Good to see you're still with us." She straightens, and Maura straightens too, her eyes still on Jane's face, even when the other woman looks away. "And saying someone is better than Pike is not a compliment, Korsak."

Korsak grunts.

Maura gestures to Jane's nose without thinking. "You've fractured your nose," she says.

Jane looks back at her. She nods. "Yeah," she says simply.

"It's not disfiguring."

This reveals the almost grin again. "Good to know," Jane says. "Can you pop it out for me?"

Maura hesitates. Yes, she can, but _should_ she?

"It might hurt," she says, though she could kick herself right after.

Jane shrugs like the doctor has commented about the weather. "Okay," she says. "Thanks."

So Maura takes one calming breath, and snaps the fractured bone into place, and when Jane swears and clutches her nose, she forces herself to merely arch an eyebrow and advise on the application of ice.

Later, she will play the events over and over in her head, wondering each time what she could have done. Each time she will come to the same conclusion: It was her fault.

She was the first one to view the crime scene who also had the necessary prior knowledge needed to put the pieces together.

She had spent several minutes alone with the victim in the living room, which had given her ample time to fully process her surroundings. She hadn't done so.

If she had, she would have seen the evidence before Detective Rizzoli, and she would have had time to warn her.

But she hadn't seen the tea cup, and she hadn't seen the taser marks, and so she doesn't say anything as Jane circles the couch, eyes scanning everything.

"Missing wife," she says. "Posed. With a tea cup."

And Maura starts, looking up at Jane to see that the other woman is looking right back at her.

"Is he out?" she asks, looking over Maura's head at Detective Korsak. "Is the Surgeon out?"

She asks the question as though he will know the answer, and Maura is instantly furious. She can't help the words that tumble from her mouth, nor can she help the accusatory tone with which they are delivered.

"Oh my God," she says, turning to look at Korsak as well. "Korsak?"

Jane looks back at her for a second, and if she is surprised by Maura's outburst, she doesn't show it.

"No," Korsak says quickly. "It's a copycat, that's all."

"Still," Maura hears herself say. "You could have given her some sort of warning."

Jane steps up to the body. Blood, the violence of this crime, does not bother her, not even in the face of what must be her worst nightmare.

Murder, it seems, does nothing but fuel the detective's desire for justice. Maura watches as Jane steps up to the body and tilts the man's head to the side, too awed by her refusal to show fear to be irked by the disruption of her crime scene.

"Taser marks," Jane says.

And here is Maura's second failing. She will feel this moment for days after it has happened, the moment when Jane tilts her victim's head.

"Here," Jane is pointing them out to Korsak with her blue-gloved hand. "We didn't release that information to the press." She waits, but no one says anything, not even Maura, who has at last gained control of her tongue.

Jane's face has hardened to stone. She speaks the words that no one wants to say.

"Hoyt's trained an apprentice."

2.

One of the things the doctor likes the best about Boston is the running. The city is built for it, and by the time the spring starts to lengthen into fall, Maura has a routine morning and evening run. She likes the morning route the best, how it winds her down the hill and through the park before circling lazily back towards home.

She always stops in the park, about halfway through her run, in order to stretch. She picks the same bench every morning, running through the same groups of leg stretches, preparing for the final push back around and up Beacon Hill, and she always revels in the early morning quiet. She loves the feeling of potential that each morning brings, the idea that each day is entirely separate from the one that came before it, and she can dictate its trajectory in anyway she chooses.

So it's right, in a way, that on the morning everything changes, the change happens during this part of her run.

Maura looks up mid-calf stretch with the feeling that someone is watching her, and sees Detective Rizzoli standing feet from her, staring. She is wearing a grey t-shirt, the Boston PD department logo so worn it is almost invisible, and running shorts. Her hair is pulled back into a pony tail, and the stray wisps that have escaped the elastic are stuck to her forehead with sweat.

She stands and she stares at Maura, not saying anything, her shoulders rising and falling quickly.

Jane has been running, she realizes, just like Maura was doing before she stopped to stretch, and the sight of the doctor has made her stop.

 _Why?_

Maura hesitates for a moment, and then offers a small smile. When Jane doesn't return it or move closer, she bends again and continues stretching. She expects Jane to keep running, to jog by her without acknowledgement, but there is no sound of shoes on the pavement, and the feeling of being watched does not go away.

Maura finishes stretching, and stands straight. Jane is still there, and when Maura turns, and starts to run again, she hears the other woman start to run behind her.

It should feel unsettling. At the very least, Maura should feel disconcerted. Every time she slows down, Jane slows down too, never pulling level with her.

But it doesn't.

They circle the park at an easy pace, and then head down Boylston, and when Maura picks up her speed experimentally, Jane does too, always keeping the same amount of distance between them. After a while, Maura finds the slap of Jane's sneakers on the concrete comforting. She falls into the rhythm that is most comfortable to her, forgetting to worry about the detective trailing behind her, and when she gets back to her front steps, she stops and climbs the first three before remembering her silent shadow.

She turns, ready to say something, assuming that Jane will stop now too, but she is mistaken. Jane continues on, glancing at her as she passes, her expression difficult to read. Maura watches her to the end of the street, until she turns the corner and disappears.

...

And so Maura stumbles onto this new routine by accident. She goes for her morning run as always, but now she lingers in the park for five minutes, stretching, until Jane Rizzoli shows up, and then they run the rest of her route together.

Always, Maura stops at her house, and always, Jane continues on, throwing the doctor a look that she has decided is somewhere between furtive and challenging. After these runs, Maura goes inside and makes coffee, replaying the detective's expression over in her head, and trying to figure out her motivation.

At work, they don't speak about their morning activities. Maura treats Jane as she would any other detective, and Jane treats her in the same sarcastic, stand offish way she treats Frost and Korsak. She is dealing with the re-emergence of Hoyt, has thrown herself so entirely into the case that twice, Frost has had to wake her at her desk and demand she go home. Dr. Isles can tell from the actions of those around them that they are worried for her health. Korsak stops by her desk each time he has need to pass it, asking in a would be casual way how Jane is. Would she like to go with them after work to the robber?

Jane accepts his offer once, and the next morning when she joins Maura on her run, her eyes are red-rimmed, and her breathing is more labored than usual. She doesn't accept Korsak's offers after that, and she silences her mother's incessant calls, though Maura can sometimes hear the buzzing that comes from the detective's suit pocket when they are discussing a case.

They keep running.

It doesn't matter if it is raining, or foggy; if they were both in the precinct until midnight the night before, or Cavanaugh ordered Jane not to show her face until the next Monday. Maura arrives in the park at the same time every morning, and Jane is less than a minute behind her, sometimes timing it so perfectly that as Maura finishes her stretches and stands to continue on, she can hear the sound of Jane approaching behind her, and she doesn't even have to look back.

So when Maura wakes up on a dismal Monday morning, to see buckets of rain pouring from the sky, she stares out the window and bites absently at the cuticle of her thumb, wondering what to do.

Today is a scheduled day off for both Jane and Maura. What if the detective has decided to sleep in? Maura pulls off her sleep shirt, and reaches for a sports bra, shaking her head. Jane never sleeps in, and she has never decided not to run, no matter the weather.

But as she is pulling her running shirt over her head, a clap of thunder makes her jump. She steps into her shoes and moves too look out the window by the front door. Little rivers are running down each side of the street outside her house, and the sound of the rain on the pavement is loud, even with the door shut tight.

"Are you going out in this, Jane?" Maura asks the air. She can't explain exactly why, but she knows that if she doesn't run today, and Jane does, something between them will end.

So she goes. She pulls on the lightest rain jacket she has, laces up her shoes, and steps out into the downpour.

It is miserable. She is instantly soaking wet, and her sneakers feel as though they gain a pound with every step. She almost turns back several times, and by the time she makes it to the park, she is almost positive that Jane will have stayed home.

Anyone outside in this weather has to be insane.

 _I must be insane._

Maura finishes her stretch, and looks up in the direction that Jane normally comes from.

And there she is, dressed in her normal running outfit, looking just as stunned to see Maura as Maura is to see her.

They stare at each other for a long moment, until another roll of thunder causes Jane to start and look up at the sky, blinking rapidly against the rain that falls on her face.

Maura doesn't realize that she has formulated a plan until she turns and starts running. She sprints off in their usual direction, faster than she ever has before, and she can hear the wet splash of Jane's shoes on the pavement behind her, keeping pace.

She pushes harder, straining, pulling away just slightly, hoping that the detective follows, that she doesn't assume that Maura is trying to end their ritual.

The rain is falling harder now, and colder too. It beats against Maura's skin like a million miniature nails, and by the time she turns onto her block, her arms and legs feel numb with cold. Her clothing is soaked through.

But behind her, she can still hear Jane, breathing hard, just keeping up. And so the rain could be nothing at all.

She stops running when she reaches the front steps of her house. Just stops dead on the sidewalk and turns in time to see Jane slow in confusion.

Maura puts out both hands. _Stop._

Jane stops.

It is another four miles back to the detective's apartment. Maura knows that now that she is familiar with the city. And, because she is also more familiar with Jane herself, she knows that there is no way that the other woman runs _only_ another four miles. Not when so many things are chasing her.

Maura won't have it. Not in this weather. She puts her hands out to stop Jane from running past her, and when her silent command works, she gestures at the door to her house.

"Come inside," she says, quickly and firmly, as though they are not only colleagues but close friends. As though they have been running _together_ for more than a month and not just near each other.

Jane blinks at her, and raindrops fall from her lashes. She shivers visibly.

"Come inside, and warm up," Maura says, in the same firm tone. "Just come in and warm up."

She turns then, and ascends the five short steps to her front door, reaching under the mailbox for the hide-a-key as she goes.

By the time she has turned the lock and pushed the door inward, Jane is three steps behind her.

...

3.

"A little girl has his heart."

.

Jane stays in Maura's house for the entire morning, and much of the afternoon. Maura gives her a towel as she steps into the hall, and then a second a moment later, when it becomes clear that her mane of hair cannot be dried with just one.

And then, speaking as minimally and as easily as possible, she offers coffee, dry clothes ("a little short around the ankles, perhaps,") and, most boldly, a shower.

Jane accepts all of these things with barely any hesitation, even the shower. Maura shows her where the guest bedroom and bathroom are located, explains the way the independent shower heads work, and then walks away before Jane has a chance to close the door.

The shower runs for a full half an hour, and Jane appears in the living room trailed by a mist of shower steam, looking tired, and possibly content.

"Thanks," she says to a spot on the wall near Maura's shoulder.

"Not at all."

Maura had showered quickly and returned to the living room to seat herself at the small desk near the entry to the kitchen. She'd been looking over an autopsy report when Jane had come in. "Can I get you anything to eat?"

And that is how the first day went. Jane left at dusk, half turning in the doorway like she wanted to say something, but not quite managing.

Maura hadn't pushed her. "See you at work, Detective."

This had earned her a small smile. "See ya, Maura."

.

Now, two weeks later, at the close of the case, Hoyt again behind bars where he belongs, Jane sits at the end of Maura's couch in her own sweat pants, her hands wrapped tightly around one of Maura's mugs.

"I'm sorry?" Maura puts her own coffee down.

Jane swallows, but doesn't take her eyes off of the television. "A little girl has his heart," she repeats.

Maura stares at Jane's profile, trying to understand what has brought about this sudden confession. She folds her hands in her lap. "A little girl?" she asks.

Jane nods, still not looking at her. "She's seven. 'Zo was always small," a breath, "for his age."

Maura pulls one leg up onto the couch, thinking. "It's been long enough," she says quietly, "that there is very little chance of rejection at this point."

Jane turns her head sharply, but her expression is not angry. "How little?" she asks, as though this is what she's been wanting to discuss since that morning.

"Less than 2% of transplants fail after more than eight months," Maura says. "It's likely that at this point, there's not even any discomfort or shortness of breath."

Jane's hands around the mug are white to the fingernails. "Good," she says, looking back to the television.

Maura looks back at the screen as well. They are watching a movie that Jane has picked out. It is not her night to do so, but Maura insisted. She'd just been so glad to open the door and find the detective on the other side, stepping in with a little duck of her head, as though a shrug could mask the bandage on the side of her neck, or the deep dark bruise on her cheek.

 _Hoyt is back in prison,_ Maura had had to tell herself repeatedly. _Jane is okay. The worst is over._

"When he was four, he found out what I did for a living." Again, Jane speaks out of nowhere. Maura does not jump, does not allow herself to show surprise or to do what she really desires, which is turn fully around to face Jane and ask, _Why are you confiding in_ _me_? She just reaches for her coffee and takes another sip. She nods.

"He asked me if I ever shot and killed people. And I'd sworn to myself that I'd never lie, you know? So I told him that yes, sometimes Mama had to shoot bad people who were dangerous." Maura sees her frown, and perhaps it is at herself, because she says next, "He was too young for me to say that, I think. I don't think I should have told him right then."

Maura makes a noncommittal sound that makes Jane raise an eyebrow at her.

"Children understand much more than we want to admit to ourselves," she says softly. "Just the fact of his asking meant that he was ready for the answer you gave."

Jane looks into her mug, like her son might appear to her in the form of tea leaves. "He made me promise not to kill anyone unless I really, _really_ had to," she says, her voice just a little bit heavier than usual. "Two reallys," she says after a moment. "We always used to say two so that it meant something."

Ah.

Here then, is the reason that Hoyt is back in prison, and not buried in a standard issued, pine box. This is the reason that Jane spared his life, when he is the person who did not spare her son.

Maura puts her coffee down, and then reaches out her hand, sliding it along the upholstery of her couch, the way she would when greeting a skittish cat.

Jane doesn't seem to notice. "He had a good heart," she says, "And I promised him." And she reaches out and grasps Maura's hand, hard.

"And now a little girl has it."

She isn't crying, but she looks like she is close enough to it, that anything Maura says that is not exactly the right thing will push her over the edge. It will push her over the edge and away and they will never be able to find one another again.

Maura squeezes Jane's hand. She reaches out her other hand and squeezes with two.

"Jane," she says quietly, and she waits until the dark head turns to her, deep chestnut eyes meeting her own. "Would you like to meet her? If you could?"

Jane swallows hard, but she nods her head up and down until Maura moves closer and cups her cheek, stilling her.

She will stay the night, Maura knows. She will collapse in the guest room bed, and Maura will sit in the armchair in the hall until her breathing is even and deep. It is another tradition they don't talk about.

It is another thing they both need.

"Could you look for her?" Jane asks. "Do you think they'd…" she trails off, forcing herself not to get ahead of herself. Not to hope.

In truth, Maura has already found her. Months ago, after she'd reviewed Connor's autopsy, though she'd done it for her own sanity, without any thought of Jane.

"Yes," she says simply.

Jane takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes. She says, "There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen."

"Yes," Maura nods. Jane leans into her hand.

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

1.

It doesn't happen the way Maura thinks it will, during a moment of intense emotional turmoil and vulnerability. It doesn't happen during an extremely difficult case where they sleep together in the guest room, because both are too afraid to be on their own.

No.

It happens on a regular night, during a regular movie. It happens when Maura least expects it.

...

Jane heals.

Little by little, Maura watches as the fractured pieces of Jane, the parts that had split apart at the death of her son, begin to come back together.

Maura is surprised, and altogether delighted to find that even as this happens, Jane continues to include her in her life. The second time Jane swings by to ask her to accompany her to the robber, Maura tests her motives, telling her it's not necessary.

Jane furrows her brow. "What's not necessary?"

Maura smiles in what she hopes is an understanding fashion. "To invite me. You're not obligated to-"

"Whoa. _Whoa_ _ **,**_ " Jane cuts her off mid sentence. "Obligated?"

Maura nods. "Yes. Just because," She pauses here, carefully sidestepping what she would like to say, and opts for something safer. "Just because we are colleagues, does not mean you should feel as though you _have_ to ask me along to the Robber with you and the others."

Jane stares at her for a long moment before shrugging her shoulders, turning on her heel. "Okay." She says over her shoulder and disappears.

Maura stares at the empty doorway, and her shock has faded almost entirely to despair when Jane reappears.

"Hey Maura," she says nonchalantly, "Frost, Korsak, and me are going to the Robber tonight. I'd love you to join us."

Maura tries to look disgruntled, but it is hard when relief rushes back at her like that, almost buckling her knees.

"Frost, Korsak, and I," she corrects. "I'd be happy to join you."

Jane grins at her and is gone again and Maura crosses her arms and smiles to herself, elated that Jane is healing, she has come back to herself enough to joke with her. To _play._

They go home together that night, and Jane falls asleep on Maura's couch, beer tipping dangerously towards the floor.

Maura pulls it out of her hand and Jane stirs enough for a sleepy smile reaching out a hand to keep the doctor on the couch.

Though she would welcome it, though she can practically feel it in the space around them, a palpable thing, they don't kiss that night.

They don't even kiss that week. Maura worries over it, wonders if she is wrong in waiting for Jane to make the first move, if she shouldn't be the first one to lean in. She worries maybe she is reading she situation wrong. Maybe all friends look at each other that way. Maybe all friends cook side by side three nights a week, and maybe all friend's knees touch during movie night. All best friends sleep next to each other at night as often as as they do apart.

Maybe, if she had other close friends, they would occupy as much of her mind as Jane does.

She spends hours at a time, dissecting their interactions, replaying even the briefest of conversations, the most mundane. She thinks that the tension will build and build, until they aren't able to stand it. But then they'll catch another case, and neither one will think about anything else until it is done.

...

But then morning of Connor's anniversary dawns bright and infuriatingly cheerful. The moment Maura opens her eyes, she knows that Jane is not in bed any longer. She might not even be in the house. She'd warned Maura that it might happen. _I might not be able to stay,_ she'd said in that deep voice that was starting to give the doctor goosebumps.

 _I understand_. Maura had moved as close to Jane as she dared. _If you need me tomorrow, Jane, you must ask me, alright? I'll give you your space until you do._ She'd taken a hand in hers in the dark. _Ask,_ she'd whispered, almost pleading.

Jane hadn't answered.

The knock on her door early that afternoon does, in fact, bring a Rizzoli, though not the one she wants to see.

It is Angela, her eyes a little puffy and her make-up hastily done. Maura feels panic like a hook just underneath her navel.

"What's happened?" she asks, stepping aside to let Angela in. Why hadn't she insisted Jane stay with her.

"I need to speak to you," Angela says curtly.

Maura blinks, trying to recenter the world. She should have _insisted._

"Is it Jane?" she asks, knowing she sounds just this side of frantic. "Angela-"

"Do you know that Jane is gay?" Angela blurts it out as though reciting a line she's been practicing but still hasn't gotten the hang of.

Maura stares at her. "Excuse me?"

Angela reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out several glossy photos. She thrusts them out at Maura as though they hold the black and white proof of her daughter's sexuality.

"She's gay. She was only with Connor's father because she thought it was what I wanted."

Maura takes a step back, like she can distance herself from the conversation as well. "Why don't you come in," she says, to give herself time to think.

Mercifully, Angela agrees.

They settle on the couch several minutes later, each with a mug of tea, and this time when Angela tries to hand over the pictures, Maura takes them carefully and examines each one at length.

Here are Jane and Connor at the beach, too wrapped up in their ice cream to bother looking at the camera. Here is Connor, in a baby blue t-ball jersey, holding a bat that's too heavy for him, and smiling full force at the camera.

Maura smiles through tears in her eyes. "He looks like her."

Angela smiles too. "He looked like his father," she corrects. "He _acted_ like his mother. That's what you're seeing. They were two of a kind." She pulls the top photo gently out of Maura's hands to reveal the one underneath. It is Jane, Connor, slightly older, and a pretty woman with tan skin and sandy brown hair. They are smiling at the camera, their faces all pushed together in what Maura recognizes as a 'selfie.' "When Chloe came, it was like everything just slid into place." She taps the photo. "She was a social worker Jane met through one of her cases. They were inseparable for almost three years. Connor treated her like a second mother."

Maura swallows past jealousy she has no right to feel and looks up into Angela's face.

"Why are you telling me this?" She can imagine Jane's horror if she knew that her mother was revealing so much about her past. She feels as though she is betraying Jane's trust, though she hasn't invited Angela over for this purpose. "Angela, if Jane knew that you were sharing all of this about-"

"Jane doesn't know I know about her and Chloe," Angela says quickly.

"W-what?" She stutters "How is that possible?"

"I never talked to her about it," she says wistfully. "I pushed so hard, with Casey. And I wouldn't change the outcome for the entire world, mind you. I loved Connor. And Jane loved him." she pauses, and then shakes her head. "But she was miserable with him. She was trying to make me happy. Angela smiles sadly. "She's always trying to make someone else happy. And then with Chloe, it was like she finally got to be the happy one."

Maura swallows. "What happened?"

"I only have theories," Angela sighs. "Jane was frightened of what I'd think... Chloe was frightened of her feelings for Jane and Connor."

Maura looks up sharply. "Frightened?"

"I think so," Angela says with a shrug. "She ended up leaving. Just after Connor turned seven. It was very abrupt. Vince told me later that she didn't say good-bye. Just vanished."

Maura has a flash of memory at these words. Jane, sitting bolt upright on the couch in the dark, her hand shooting out to Maura's wrist, jolting her awake.

"Jane?" she'd said, rubbing her eyes with her free hand, glancing at the clock next to the muted television. 2:34am.

"You're here," Jane had said. "I thought you vanished."

She'd been asleep again before Maura could answer.

"Oh," Maura says softly, and Angela looks at her shrewdly.

"So you understand now?" she asks. "Why I'm telling you this?" Maura doesn't answer at once, and Angela takes the silence to flip to the next picture, Chloe making a funny face at Connor, Jane watching them both. Enraptured.

"She looks at you like that," Angela says, tapping the photo. "She has for a while now. And I want to know if you feel the same."

Maura blinks, too shocked to formulate an answer.

Angela looks back at her, eyebrows raised. "She's lost enough loved ones to last her a lifetime," she continues. "And if you don't feel the same way she does, or if you're going to run the way Chloe did, I would just like to know. I'm not going to let her get hurt again."

Maura opens her mouth to answer, but at that moment, her phone buzzes. She looks down to see a text from Jane, just two words.

 _I'm asking._

Maura stands up, the last couple of photos sliding to the floor. "I have to go," she says quickly. "It's Jane."

She texts back that she is coming. _Ten minutes. I'm on my way_ , and as she reaches for her keys and purse, looking back to make sure Angela is coming along, she smiles.

"And the only place I'd run, Angela," she says, ushering the older Rizzoli out the door, "is to wherever she is."

…

She arrives at Jane's apartment to find the detective sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor, staring at nothing. Maura hangs her coat and steps out of her heels, and then moves to sit next to Jane on the floor.

"I'm here," she says quietly, and Jane tilts her head to the left, just an inch.

"I need something," she says.

"What do you need?" Maura asks, meaning _anything._

"Something so I don't think about it," is the response, and Maura stares around the apartment, looking for the answer, terrified that Jane's trust in her is misplaced.

But it isn't.

They play scrabble. Four full games and one half one, until Jane spells the word sanguine (fifty points for using all of her letters), and bursts into tears.

Maura sits back on the couch as the tears give way immediately to rage and Jane swipes the board from the coffee table, the little game pieces flying in every direction.

Maura doesn't flinch. She doesn't even move.

It takes seventeen minutes for the tornado inside of Jane to blow itself out, and Maura sits quietly through all of it, waiting.

When Finally, _finally_ , Jane collapses onto the couch beside her, dropping her head into the doctor's lap, Maura does not hesitate to slide her hands into the hair at her temple.

"I'm here," she says quietly.

"I need something," Jane says, voice hoarse from yelling.

"Anything," Maura answers.

"I want to meet the girl who has my son's heart."

Maura bends to nod, so that Jane can feel the affirmation.

"Consider it done."

2.

Addison Bartlett is seven years old with brown wavy hair, bright blue eyes, and skin the color of the Sahara desert. She is sitting on the front steps of the home when Jane and Maura pull up, and when they step out of the car she jumps to her feet looking excited.

"Ready?" Maura asks quietly.

Addison hops from one foot to the other. "Mommy!" She cries. "Daddy! They're here!"

"Doesn't look like I have a choice," Jane says, smiling as a man and woman appear at the door behind Addison, waving.

And it's true. There is no turning back as Addison sprints down the walk and launches herself into Jane's arms with a squeal. Jane catches her lightly, throwing a worried look at Maura over the top of her head.

"It's fine" Maura mouths with a nod, and Jane gives herself over entirely to the hug.

"Addi!" Her father calls as he and his wife make their way towards them. "Honey, what did we say about being careful with people?"

Addi cranes her neck to look back at her parents from Jane's arms. "People are not jungle gyms." She says with a giggle. "But, Daddy, Detective Jane doesn't mind."

Maura thinks she's never seen Jane look so emotional. "I don't," She says thickly. "She's right."

Having reached them, Addison's father, a tall, pale man with ginger stubble and deep lines on his forehead, leans forward to shake their hands.

"Tim," He says, and then gestures as his wife steps up. "And this is Nina."

She is small, dimpled woman with beautiful sienna skin. She laughs as Jane tries to put Addi down and is met with a grunt of protest. "Well, it seems you have a new attachment!" Nina says. "She knew you right off the bat, huh?"

Jane seems too overwhelmed to speak but Addi nods against her shoulder, sighing as though it is always her duty to explain everything.

"Of course," she says. "My heart would know it's Mommy anywhere at all."

The sound Jane makes at this little declaration pulls at Maura's heartstrings. As they make their way up to walk towards the house, she puts her hand on Jane's arm hoping it is right move. Jane smiles at her, eyes wide and awed and completely enamored, and Maura knows she's done the right thing.

The Bartletts have two children in addition to Addison, two older boys ten and fourteen, named Wylie and Charlie. They are there too, and when Addison can finally be persuaded to let go of Jane, the boys each take a turn hugging her. When they sit down in the living room, Addi scrambles into Jane's lap, still grinning from ear to ear.

"We are _so_ happy you decided to come visit us, Detective." Nina says. Her husband takes her hand, nodding

Jane looks between them, still a little shell-shocked.

"I…" she breaks off for a moment as Addi leans back against her. Her eyes close for a second. "Jane. Just call me Jane. And I didn't want to impose." She says after a moment. "I didn't want you to think I felt entitled to-"

"You are _not_ an imposition," Nina breaks in, her brow furrowing. "Everything we have is yours. Anything we can give you, you can have."

Jane nods, her smile looking a little stretched. "There was never a question," she says lowly. "I- there was no hesitation about giving his..."

Addi turns to look at her, eyes bright. "Do you want to see my scar?" She asks brightly.

Maura sees Jane's face fall.

Addi turns to study Maura for the first time. "You're a doctor aren't you?" She asks, and when Maura nods, she looks satisfied. "Get out your stethoscope," she says authoritatively before turning back to Jane. "You wanna hear me and Connor's heart, right?"

But Jane has gone pale. She shakes her head back and forth, as if the moment has come too soon. "No," she says, voice breaking. "No, I- I can't. I'm not… I'm-"

Nina understands immediately, she taps Tim and gives him a meaningful look. He stands, striding forward to pluck Addison off of Jane's lap, blowing a raspberry on her cheek to distract her.

"Munchkin," He says lightly, "why don't we go outside? Let Momma talk to Detective Rizzoli and Dr. Isles for a bit?"

Maura scoots a little closer to Jane, who has begun to cry.

"Jane," Maura says softly. "You have a present for Addison, right? That might be fun to play with outside?"

Jane glances at the little package sitting next to her on the couch. "You," she says lowly, and Maura nods, reaching to lift the gift off the couch and hold it out.

"Here, honey," she says. "Take this with you outside."

It is Charlie who steps forward and takes it, grinning back at Maura. "Thanks," he says in his deep, teenager voice. He turns to his dad. "We'll take her outside, Dad. If you want to stay."

Addison looks almost as excited by this prospect as she had at Jane's arrival.

"Yay!" She says, squirming down from her father's arms. "C'mon Wylie! See you soon, Jane!"

The adults watch as the boys lead their sister out into the back hall, and as the door to the back yard closes, silence falls.

Maura sits close to Jane, her hand on her knee.

"I'm sorry," Jane says heavily, pressing her long fingers to her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just, it's been a long time since anyone said his name."

"No," Nina says quickly. "Not at all. It's us who should be apologizing to you! We told Addi that it might be hard for you." she pauses, looking at her husband, but he seems to be at a loss just like her.

"Addi's like a new person," Nina says, changing the subject abruptly. "She was so sick for so long, it's like we're getting to know her all over again. And that's because of you, Detective. But we don't ever forget for a moment that you had to lose your son in order for us to meet our daughter."

Jane is still crying. She makes an attempt at a nod, but is only half way successful.

Maura thinks of the questions Jane had talked about asking.

"Were there any complications?" she asks, not moving her hand off of Jane's knee.

Nina shakes her head.

"No," Tim says, smiling at Jane. "She sailed through it. The doctor said she was one of the best patients she'd ever had. He said that it was like-" but Nina elbows Tim and shakes her head quickly, discreetly.  
Jane doesn't miss it. "What?" she asks, clearing her throat. "What did he say?"

Nina gives Tim a look that clearly says, _well you've done it now._

Tim swallows hard, clearly wondering if his chances are better against his wife or the detective.

"He said it was like they were meant for each other...Addison and...um…" he trails off as Nina glares daggers at him. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "That was insensitive of me."

Jane shakes her head. "No," she says, though the timber of her voice indicates that she's close to tears again. "No, it-it's good to hear."

"My daughter and my husband share the same social graces I'm afraid," Nina says quietly. "Forgive them. They mean well."

Jane smiles. "C-Connor," she only falters the tiniest bit on his name, "was a stickler for the truth, for the _whole_ story."

The Bartlett's nod as one.

"She knew it was a little boy the moment she woke up," Nina says tentatively, ignoring her husband's scandalized look at her audacity to do what she'd just chided him for.

"Half an hour after she woke up she said, 'mommy, there's a little boy in my heart." Jane keeps her composure at this fact, but Maura can't stop herself from tearing up.

"Maybe they were then," Jane says quietly. "Meant to be together." She leans towards Maura and wipes one of her tears away with a finger. She seems to be studying Maura's face in that moment, analyzing her emotions.

She looks back at the Bartletts. "None of his other," a breath, "organs were usable. It was just his heart."

Silence for a moment, and then Tim speaks, his voice deliberately soft. "You don't have to listen today, Detective. We...we're hoping you want to visit again." He glances at his wife. "We explained to Addi that there are a lot of emotions that go with-"

"I want to," Jane says quickly, before she realizes she's cut him off. "I'm sorry...I-I want to. Please."

Nina nods, standing. "I'll just go grab them," she says. "If you're ready?"

She passes Wylie as he appears in the doorway. "Dad?" he calls, and Tim gets up with an apologetic smile towards Jane and Maura. Whatever Wylie says in a hushed tone to his father makes Tim turn back to look at them sharply, and then respond sternly to his son, who nods vigorously until Tim looks satisfied. He straightens, and with one last look towards the couch, heads after his wife towards the back of the house.

Wylie approaches them nervously. "Um, I - uh - I just wanted to tell you something," he says, and he is looking down at his shoes, so he doesn't see the way Jane stares at him. Longing.

"What is it, Wylie?" Maura asks, smiling when he looks up at her.

"I just, uh, wanted to say that I know you were a really good mom to Connor." He glances at Jane and then away. "At my friend Max's house? We watched this old movie, and at the end there's a woman and she's holding on to two little boys over a cliff but she only has strength for one." Wylie pauses until Jane nods, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

"Well," Wylie continues, "I just want you to know that if that were my mom, she would choose Connor every time, instead of Addi. Just like you would choose Addi."

Jane makes a noise at this, and when Maura looks at her, she sees that she's smiling, nodding for Wylie to keep going.

"We didn't pray for another kid to die just for her. Mom said that it was a sin, and that we'd manage if she passed. She said we couldn't bargain that whoever lost their baby wouldn't be worse off. She said she knew us. And so she would count on _us_."

Wylie looks between them, he bites his lip. "I didn't really understand until I saw the movie," he finishes. "I just...wanted you to know."

Jane holds out her arms for him, without saying anything.

They are still hugging when Nina, Tim, Charlie and Addison return, and the little girl gives a squawk of dismay when she sees her older brother in Jane's arms.

"No!" she says, like she reprimanding a puppy. "No! Wylie! That is _my_ heart mommy. You get off!"

Wylie pulls away as Addison runs across the room to claim her place on Jane's lap. She has shed her t-shirt for a tank top, and the top of her scar peeks over the neck. Maura turns away to get her stethoscope, and when she looks back, Addi has put her small hands on either side of Jane's face.

"two thing you have to know, so it will be okay," she says matter of factly.

Jane nods, holding her breath.

"One," Addi says, "After this we will go out and play in the backyard, okay? Fun after hard. Daddy says."

"Okay," Jane whispers.

"And twwoo," Addi says, drawing out the number, "when I was sleeping, Connor told me to tell you that he really loves you."

A tear falls down Jane's cheek, but Addison shakes her head, wrinkling her nose. "No," she says, "I got it wrong, sorry. He said to tell you that he really, really loves you. He said there had to be two reallys."

And Maura presses the stethoscope to Addison's chest and hands it to Jane who fits it in her ears.

She closes her eyes.

"Hi Zo-zo," she whispers. She presses her head to to Addi's shoulder. She whispers,

"It counts."

…

…

They decompress that night, by ordering more Chinese food than is advisable, and watching a romantic comedy with a plot so thin it is laughable.

Maura keeps asking the names of the same, interchangeable characters, and by the time it is halfway over, Jane is laughing hard enough that there are tears shining in her eyes.

"They all look the same," the doctor says. "They all speak the same, have you noticed? They use the same verbs and adjectives. Whoever wrote this needs a thesaurus."

Jane chuckles. "Leave it to the _human_ thesaurus to point out the lack of someone else's vocabulary."

Maura grins at this gentle barb, and Jane takes a sip of her beer without breaking eye contact.

"God," she says when she's set it down, "you are beautiful."

This makes Maura laugh, and so her eyes are closed when Jane leans forward to kiss her. She is surprised, because the movie is still playing in the background, and because Mushu pork is a decidedly non-romantic meal, and because she had begun to think it wouldn't _ever_ happen.

And then she is simply happy.

Then she is just happier than she's ever been in her entire life.

3.

 _I should have killed you when I had the chance._

 _Yeah. You should have_

…

She shows up without calling. Maura opens the door to find her there, the wind whipping her hair out behind her like some black and white movie cliche.

She smiles sheepishly at Maura, and her eyes drop to the doctor's mouth for a moment, and then to her neck.

Jane's smile vanishes.

"I should have called," she says, not looking away from Maura's neck, and the little scar that rests there.

"I'm glad you're here," Maura answers.

Jane uses a hand to brush her hair out of her face. "I-" she starts and then breaks off with a breath that sounds frustrated.

"Come inside" Maura says softly. "Come inside. It's very good to see you."

Jane does as she is asked, stepping into the front hall as though she has never been there before. Her hand goes unconsciously to her own neck as she passes, to her own scar, fading like Maura's.

She follows Jane down the hall to the living room, relieved when she flops down in her usual place the couch.

"Beer?" she asks when she catches up.

Jane rakes a hand through her hair again. "Just water," she says, and her voice does sound rough and scratchy.

Maura obliges, pouring two glasses of water and hurrying back to the couch before Jane can change her mind.

She sets the water down on the table. "Would you like to watch something?"

Jane shakes her head. "Didn't want to be alone anymore," she says after a moment.

Maura allows herself to take Jane's hand, bolstered by this confession. "I find it hard to believe that Angela has left you on your own for very long," she says lightly.

This earns her the ghost of a smile. Her heart swells.

"Didn't want to keep pretending, then," she amends quietly. And when Maura squeezes her hand, she looks up. "I am having nightmares," she says, as though to correct a previous misunderstanding.

Maura blinks, and Hoyt flashes across the backs of her eyelids.

 _Hoyt! Don't you touch her!_

"Me too," Maura says, and then realizes that it is not the right thing to say. Jane's shoulders droop like this is the confirmation of her worst fear.

"I know," she says. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

"That is not what I meant," Maura says, more forcefully than she'd planned. "My nightmares are not your doing or your fault."

Jane doesn't answer, but she also doesn't leave. Maura decides to call that a draw.

They sit together in silence, not moving, and Maura can't help but wonder for the thousandth time what Jane gets out of her presence. She has never known anyone, romantic partner or not, to just want to sit with her the way Jane does.

Once, just before the routine of the morning run began, Jane appeared in the morgue during one of Maura's autopsies, just stepped into the room and then directly to the left, wedging herself tightly into the corner.

Maura was about to ask what was going on, when Angela appeared at her door, looking harried. "Maura, did Jane pass here?" her tone was part demanding, part pleading, and it took extreme focus for the doctor not too look to the corner where Jane stood, not breathing.

"She did not pass by," Maura had said, and Angela had huffed in a way identical to Jane, and turned back the way she'd come.

For a moment, Maura and Jane had just looked at each other. Then Maura went back to her autopsy and Jane hopped up onto the little ledge by the sink.

They'd stayed that way for three quarters of an hour, until Jane's phone pinged with Frost's ringtone, and she hopped down to head towards the door.

"Do you wonder about him?"

Jane's question pulls Maura from her thoughts, and for a second she thinks they are talking about Hoyt.

Then she sees Jane's face, and knows she means Connor.

"Yes," she answers honestly. "Sometimes."

"You don't ask," Jane says flatly.

Maura shrugs slightly. "Would asking work?" she wonders aloud. This makes the corner of Jane's mouth tug upwards, just a little. She leans back into the couch, and Maura slides closer to her.

"I'm not trying to keep all of that separate from…" she pauses, gesturing between them, "this," she says at last.

"I know."

"I knew that eventually it would all have to...be the same. I just…"

Maura lifts Jane's hand to her lips, and the detective lets out a long sigh. "I have all the time in the world," Maura says. "You don't have to rush anything."

"He rushed it," Jane says, voice low. Now they are talking about Hoyt. How amazing, the reasons a body rejects the vocalizing of a name.

"He didn't," Maura replies. "Nothing has to change, if you don't want it to."

Jane blinks, considering this. She glances at Maura, and then away. "I remember you at the funeral, you know," she says finally.

Maura feels her eyebrows rise. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I remember what you said," Jane looks down at their hands. "How you wouldn't shake my hand."

"I was worried you'd think I did that out of pity," Maura confesses. "I was terrified."

Jane nods. "Me too," she says, almost easily. "I thought when I got back you'd treat me like an invalid."

"I'd never," Maura begins, and Jane smiles, nodding.

"I know. But you didn't know me," she holds out her hands, "before."

And all of the focus in the world couldn't help Maura now. She leans forward and kisses Jane, and to her surprise, the other woman pulls her forward onto her lap, kissing back like she's hungry.

"I love you, Maura," Jane whispers. "You know that, right?"

The words cause a flurry of snowflakes to burst in Maura's chest. They turn white hot as they settle, making her shiver.

"I love you too," she says. "Very, very much." She pulls back so that she can look at Jane's face. "Do you want to know what I think of the person you were before? Do you want to know what I think?"

Jane seems to physically brace herself before nodding.

 _NO._

"I think that you were, and are, nothing less than the most dedicated, fiercest detective I know. If you fought for me with one fraction of the intensity with which you fought for him, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was absolutely nothing you could have done to save him."

A tear slips from Jane's eye, and she dips her head to hide it, but Maura catches her face in her hands, tipping it back up. "Jane."

Jane squeezes her eyes shut. "I fought as hard as I could."

"Yes," Maura nods, "and if the situations had been reversed, if Hoyt had been forced to rely on an apprentice then and not now, I would be the one dead."

Jane leans forward to put her head against Maura's chest. She blinks her tears into the hollow of Maura's throat.

 _NO. I WIN._

"When he had you. When I saw that taser, all I could think was that we'd never hang out again. That we'd never go running again. I wouldn't see you laugh anymore."

Maura puts her hands in Jane's hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Jane sighs and wraps her arms around her, pulling herself closer.

 _And you're going to hell alone._

"Can I stay the night?" She asks, her voice muffled by Maura's clavicle.

Maura grins. "You never have to ask," she says.

She wonders if it will be this night that they have sex, or if, like many of the other nights, Jane will fall into sleep mid-sentence, her body going heavy, finally losing the battle. One way or the other, Maura finds she doesn't really care.

"I bought the book," she says quietly, and when Jane pulls away, brow wrinkled in confusion, she speaks again. "After the funeral. I went to the store and I bought the book. I'd never read it before and...I wanted to."

Jane smiles the way she had watching Addison flex her muscles in the backyard, all pain and pleasure; too close to call a winner.

"Can I date you?" She asks, pulling Maura to her again. "Will you date me?"

Maura laughs.

.

It doesn't happen that night, though they get closer than ever before, legs intertwined, half dressed, Maura's heart beating as though it is going to break free of her chest.

Jane rolls to slide her arm around Maura's middle, pulling the doctor backwards against her chest, mumbling in her sleep. And Maura wants the moment to go on and on and on.

"Please," she whispers into her pillow. "Please, oh please, don't go."

Jane stirs just the tiniest bit. She presses her lips to Maura's in just the breath of a kiss. She murmurs.

"I'll eat you up, I love you so."


	4. Chapter 4

1.

They arrive at the Bartlett's house a little after noon. The car ride over had been silent, Jane lost in her thoughts, and Maura not wanting to interrupt her.

Nina opens the door with a smile, though her eyes are nervous. "You didn't have to come," she says in a hushed voice. "It's not an emergency by a long shot." she stands aside to let them enter, and her eyes follow Jane, trying to read her mood from her body language. "Tim and I just thought you should know."

Jane doesn't answer, so Maura asks the questions she knows Jane wants the answers to. "Did you speak to her about it?"

Nina looks a little pained. "Tim tried," she answers. "That's when she said that thing about being who Jane needed her to be."

Maura glances at Jane, who is looking around the front entrance of the Bartlett's house as though she's never seen it before.

"Where is she now?" Maura asks.

It's Charlie who answers, coming around the corner at that moment. "In her room," he says. "Hey Jane. Hey Maura."

Maura waves, but Jane seems to still be lost in her own thoughts. Nina looks at her and then back to Maura, obviously worried.  
"We didn't want to upset you," she says quietly. "And we're not trying to...detach, or anything like that. Addison is just going through-"

"Can I see her?" Jane cuts Nina off as though she hasn't been listening.

Nina hesitates for just the whisper of a second, but it is enough to make Jane's shoulders tense.

"I can fix it," she says earnestly. "I messed it up."

"No!" Nina replies, just as Maura says, "No one is saying anyone messed something up, Jane."

Nina nods vigorously in agreement. "That's right," she says, sounding breathless. "Tim told me you'd react this way. We're not accusing you of anything. we're not even upset that Addison is binding, if that's what she really wants to do. It's just...the box we found under her bed suggests...and what she said to Tim when he confronted her…" Nina trails off.

Jane makes a vague gesture with her hands, but doesn't explain it. "I know," she says finally. "I'd just really like to talk to her, if it's alright."

Nina nods. "Of course it's alright."

Jane smiles, and turns away, heading up the stairs towards Addison's room. For a moment, Nina and Maura stand there, watching her go, until Maura realizes that the other woman is near tears.

"Oh, Nina," she says softly, reaching out to put her hand on the other woman's upper arm. "It's going to be fine."

"Tim was against telling her. He thought she'd take it hard. He thought she'd take responsibility for it." She shakes her head. "When am I going to listen to that man?"

Maura squeezes Nina's arm. "I don't think that's what's happening," she says, trying to sound reassuring. "I know what Jane's like when she's shouldering the weight of someone else's burdens, and it isn't this."

Nina turns to look at her, dark eyes shining with tears, and Maura makes the decision at that moment. "I'll go listen, alright?" she says.

Nina's face breaks open in a smile. "The second to last stair creaks," she advises. "Best to skip it altogether."

…

Jane is sitting at Addison's desk chair when Maura creeps up to the door. She can just make out the toe of Addison's boot, tapping nervously on the floor.

"Mom told you," Addi says angrily, "didn't she?"

"Yeah," Jane answers. "She did."

They are silent for a couple of minutes, and Maura sees Jane's hand pull through her hair. Her shoulders rise and fall slowly in a sigh that is always the precursor to a confession.

"Hey," she says quietly, "Addi, how long have we been friends."

"A long time," Addison says glumly.

"Five years," Jane tells her. "A really long time. Almost as long as I've known Maura."

"Yeah."

"And what's the one thing we always promised to do for each other, even when no one else would."

"Tell the truth," Addison responds dutifully.

Maura sees Jane nod. "Yeah. Tell each other the truth. You tell me if my outfit looks dumb, or if I got food in my teeth. I tell you if you're being a brat to your mom and dad, or if your brother is trying to work you over in a baseball card trade."

"Yeah," Addi says again. "So?"

Jane pulls a hand through her hair again, and Maura can imagine the look on her face, as she braces for what she's about to say. "Well, here's the truth. I messed up." It comes out calmly and simply, though Maura knows it took a lot of effort to make it so.

"Huh?"

"With you and me," Jane clarifies. "I messed up, kid."

Maura shakes her head, but doesn't intervene. Not yet.

"No you didn't," Addison says, sounding both irritated and scared. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you binding," Jane says. "And how you don't want to do it."

"Yes I do," Addison says at once. "You can't tell me what's in my head."

Jane's calm voice does not waver. "You're right, I can't tell you what's in your head. Only you can do that. You don't have to answer to anyone. Least of all me."

"I don't know what you're talking-"

"Remember the first present I ever got you?" Jane cuts her off. "Do you remember what it was?"

Addison scoffs. "Of course I do. I still have it. It was my first baseball mitt."

"Yeah," Jane says. "When we went out to play that day, and your mom saw what I got you, she said she didn't know if you would take to the sport. She said you never seemed very inclined towards things that got you dirty."

There is a pause, and then Addison says defiantly. "I love baseball."

Jane doesn't answer this. "Remember when they wouldn't let you play on the boys travel team that year there weren't enough girls to form a team of your own?"

"Yeah, so?"

"You fought so hard to get them to accept you."

"And they did. They let me play and we went all the way to the State championships."

"You missed out on that camp for horseback riding. You'd had that pamphlet for months."

"It doesn't matter," Addison says, though she sounds less sure. "I love baseball."

"Connor loved baseball," Jane says calmly.

"Yeah," Addison answers, and the eagerness in her voice makes Maura's chest hurt. "I know. And we're like...the same, right? Tell me about him."

A long, long silence. When Jane speaks again, it is with the heaviness that comes with holding back tears. "No, hon," she says quietly. "And you're not the same. That's what I mean when I say I messed up."

"Yes we are," Addi says, but it comes out like a question. "Jane?"

"Oh, baby, don't cry," Jane says quietly. "It's okay."

"We are," Addison says tearfully.

Maura watches as Jane stands, moving out of sight, and she can tell by the sound that she's pulled Addison onto her lap, the way she used to do when the girl was still little, and it was time for her to listen to Connor's heart.

Addison's heart.

Their heart.

"You're not," Jane says quietly. "And that's a good thing, Addi. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you enough how special you are all on your own. I'm sorry he was there all the time, in everything we did, and that you didn't feel like, that you _don't_ feel like I could love you for being you."

Addison is crying in earnest now, her muffled sobs reach Maura in the hallway. Jane keeps talking to her softly.  
"You are a talented, wonderful girl," Jane says. "You always have been. And liking boys, liking make-up, getting your period, those are all really exciting, amazing things that I want to share with you. You don't have to hide them because they wouldn't have happened to Connor."

Addison sniffs. "Getting my period wasn't exciting, Jane," she says, sounding a little bit like her old self.

Jane chuckles. "It might have been, if you hadn't tried to hide it. Your mom could have told you all about how you were becoming a woman." She says the last words in an over important, hushed tone, and Addison giggles.

"I love you, Addison," Jane says. "And it's definitely not because you've got my son's heart. It's because of what you've _done_ with it. It's because you've made it your own."

This makes Maura tear up. She uses the silence to wipe at her eyes.

"Hey, Jane?" Addi says after a while.

"Yeah, kid."

"Will...you come with me to get a bra this weekend? I...don't want to bind anymore."

"Of course I will," Jane says at once. "But...Can we bring Maura? I think stylistically, she's going to be of more help."

Addison laughs again. "Yeah," she says. "That sounds good."

"So no more hidden boxes of make-up under the bed?" Jane asks, and Maura steps back towards the stairs, knowing the heart to heart is about to be over.

"No more boxes of make-up under the bed," Addison agrees. "But you'll still listen to our heart, Jane, won't you? On the day?"

The voices are getting closer, so Maura turns and retreats down the stairs, but she still hears Jane's answer.

"Yeah, I promise. Every year."

...

2.

Something is up.

On Tuesday morning, Angela arrives in the bullpen and instead of coming over to Jane's desk, she flags Barry Frost down and the two of them disappear down the hall.

Maura is talking to Korsak when this happens, and when she looks over to Jane for an explanation, she sees right away that the detective is just as confused as she is.

When Jane confronts Frost about it upon his return ("What the hell was that about?"), he shrugs and tells her it's nothing.

Jane cannot be put off so easily. "You're going to tell me that you, going to have a quick chat with my mom, is nothing?" she asks sarcastically.

Frost won't look her in the eye. "Don't worry about it, Jay," he mumbles.

Jane stares at him for another couple of minutes, but he doesn't look up at her.

The next day, after lunch, Maura finds Frankie and Frost speaking in hushed whispers in the hallway by the cafe. Frankie is facing her, and when he sees her coming, he tenses, making a quick little hand gesture to Frost that means 'hush.'

Maura narrows her eyes as she passes, but doesn't say anything. Neither man looks at her.

Jane comes down to the morgue ten minutes later. She is rubbing her palms in the way she does when her nerves are starting to get the better of her.

"Did you talk to Frost and Frankie in the hall?" She asks.

Maura shakes her head. "No," she says. "I saw them, though."

Jane looks down at her hands, fingers idly picking at the scars. Maura steps forward and pulls them gently apart.

"Are you keeping something from me?" She asks quietly.

"No," Maura says simply. "I'm not."

Jane nods. She learned long ago that Maura was unable to lie to her. She knows what questions to ask. "Something's up though," she says. "Something's going on."

"I agree," Maura answers. "But I don't know what it is."

Jane bites her lip momentarily. "That makes me more nervous," she says. "Can you find out what it is?"

Maura nods, and they keep holding hands, just facing each other, until Jane's phone buzzes and she has to pull away.

"If you find anything out," she says, heading back towards the door, "about the prints or about what's going on."

Maura smiles. "You are the first person I will call," she says, and Jane grins over her shoulder as she disappears around the corner.

She is unable to find Frost and Korsak for the rest of the day, however, and Frankie dodges her all of Thursday morning. So that is why, after work on Thursday, Maura drives to Angela's house to ask - for her sanity and for Jane's - what exactly is going on.

She knocks twice before the door opens, and her heart sinks when Angela opens the door. Behind her, sitting on on the couch in the living room, are Frankie, Korsak, and Frost.

"Something's going on," she says to Angela. "You have to tell me what it is."

She doesn't wait to be invited in, but steps past the older woman and heads down the hall to the living room. She takes the remaining armchair, and crosses one ankle over the other.

Angela returns to her spot next to Frankie on the couch and for a moment, no one speaks.

"Do I need to remind anyone in this room of the debacle that was Jane's 40th birthday party?" Maura asks finally.

No one answers, but Frost shakes his head, looking up at her.

They'd tried to plan a surprise birthday party for Jane's 40th, two years ago. All they had succeeded in doing was pushing the detective to the edge of a nervous breakdown. Maura had finally confessed to their scheming, holding Jane's head firmly between her hands until the hazy, dissociated eyes had finally focused on her.

"It's nothing Jane needs to know about," Angela speaks up. "It's just-"

"Something that concerns her family, and her partners?" Maura asks, arching an eyebrow. She turns so that she can look Korsak in the eye. "Be reasonable," she says. "Think about who we're dealing with."

Korsak rubs the back of his neck, letting out a long, sighing breath. "Doc-" he begins.

"Chloe Robinson is back," Frankie bursts out.

Maura turns her attention to her, hoping against hope that she has misheard. "I'm sorry?"

Frankie sighs, not looking around to meet his mother's reproachful glare. "Chloe Robinson is back," he repeats. "She's been trying to get in touch with Jane since last Friday."

"I've been blocking her," Frost fills in, "so she reached out to Angela on Monday."

Maura stares at them. Her brain has already jumped ahead to the moment when Jane tells her she's leaving. Chloe Robinson, Jane's first great love. The woman who disappeared without a good-bye.

It is with great effort that she rewinds this horrible movie enough to say, "she's come back... _for_ Jane?"

"She says she wants to apologize," Angela answers, and her tone tells even Maura what she really thinks of this. "But Jane was devastated after she left. And she's finally _happy_ now. I told Chloe she can take her ' _apology'_ and stick it-"

"Jane is going to be furious when she finds out that you have been keeping this from her," Maura interrupts. "I hope it was worth the weeks of cold shoulder you're going to get," she says to Frost and Korsak.

"She doesn't have to find out," Korsak says slowly. "Frost talked to Chloe yesterday, and he thinks he got through to her."

Maura feels her phone buzz in her bag, and reaches in to silence it without looking. "This is insanity," she says, more to herself than the others. "Of course she is going to find out. For one, I'm not going to keep it from her. I couldn't if I tried."

"But-" Frost starts, but Maura waves him away. "You are all making this much bigger than it needs to be." She looks around at them, waiting for one of them to concede. "We're talking about a woman who walked out, not a suspect in one of our cases. Not someone who caused Jane physical harm."

This makes Angela go red and start to sputter incoherently.

"Wait," Frankie says, frowning, "Maura-"

But Maura puts her hand up to stop him again, pulling her phone out of her bag as it vibrates once more. There are three texts on her screen. Maura pulls in a deep breath.

"And in any case, it's too late," she says, standing. "Jane already knows."

"What?" Angela jumps to her feet too, looking outraged. "How?"

Maura flashes her phone. "Chloe is at our house."

3.

Chloe Robinson looks much the same as she did in the pictures Maura has seen of her. She has the same sandy brown, shoulder length hair, and the same spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

She sits at the kitchen table across from Jane and Maura, foot tapping nervously on the linoleum, not looking directly at either of them. It is clear to the doctor that this was not what she expected when she came to see Jane, though her true intentions are still somewhat cloudy.

"You have a really nice place," Chloe says into the awkward silence.

"Thank you," Maura says automatically, her upbringing winning out over her desire to stay silent and stony for the duration of the visit.

Jane does not have the same problem. She sighs heavily. "What do you want, Cleo?" she asks.

The nickname pricks Maura's chest like a thorn, but she tries not to let it show.

Chloe, on the other hand, flushes with what can only be hopeful pleasure.

"I…wanted to see you," she says. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

Jane shakes her head, rejecting this. "Bullshit," she says, without anger. "Tell me the truth."

The smile drops from Chloe's face. She glances at Maura briefly, and then looks back at Jane, licking her lips.

"I have kids for, for you, Jane," she stammers, her voice catching halfway through the sentence.

This catches Jane's full attention, and she looks up into at Chloe for the first time.

"What?"

Chloe interprets her tone as containing excitement as well as disbelief. "Yes!" she says. "Two. They're girls, thirteen and eight. They've been through the wringer, I won't sugarcoat it, and the older one has that tough shell." She smiles warmly at Jane. "You know what I'm talking about, right? What it's like feeling responsible for your siblings. Wanting to protect them."

Maura bristles at this familiarity, possibly more than Jane does. Her hand clenches into a fist under the table.

"I'm sorry," she says, though this is just a formality. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand. You have… _children_ for Jane? As in, children for her to adopt?"

Jane shakes her head. "No," she says.

"Yes," Chloe says, sounding surprised.

They stare at each other.

"I'm afraid I'm lost," Maura says, reaching to take Jane's hand in her own. "Jane, look at me," she waits until this command is obeyed. "What am I missing?"

Chloe gasps quietly. "Oh, my God," she says, and both women turn to look at her. "She doesn't know."

Jane shakes her head, a warning rather than confirmation. "Chloe," she growls. "Stop."

"What don't I know?" Maura asks. She is unable to suppress a shudder as a dozen thoughts tumble into her brain at once. She goes with the most likely. "Did you two plan to have children?"

"No!" Jane says firmly, spinning to face Maura. Chloe makes an incredulous noise.

Jane spares her a withering. "Yes," she amends quickly. "Nine years ago."

The panic clouding Maura's mind lessens a bit. Her ideas of covert communications and secret plans to elope fade. "Okay," she says, squeezing Jane's hand, because she can feel the other woman trembling. "Alright."

Chloe bites her lip. "Look," she says quietly. "I know I didn't do right by you, Jane. I know I messed a lot of things up."  
Jane snorts. "That's the understatement of the century," she mumbles.

"I want you to know how sorry I am. If I could take it all back, I would."

Jane looks away from the table, and Maura is a little alarmed to see that she looks scared, as well as angry.

"Jane," she begins, "what-"

But Jane pushes back from the table, raking a hand through her hair. "Jesus, Chloe," she says angrily. "Now? You choose now to show back up?"

Chloe looks up at her, eyes wide. "I know," she says, "Jane, I know I-"

"You _don't_ know," she interrupts, voice rising. "You were gone. You just left. You didn't have to sit with Zo every night when he asked where you were. You didn't have to deal with the way everyone just looked at you like you were some sad little puppy who deserved pity. You-"

"I wasn't ready!" Chloe bursts out, though the confession seems to deflate her. "I couldn't… _risk_ everything the way you could, Jane. I wasn't ready."

"Well you picked a fucking awful time to decide you couldn't handle us," Jane says. "And you picked an awful fucking time to show back up." She shakes her head. "What did you think, Clee? Did you think I'd just be here waiting for you? Just…pining away?

And suddenly, something clicks for Maura. They'd talked about Jane's relationship with Chloe just once, and though Jane had answered every question Maura asked, it had seemed painful. Like pulling teeth from a willing patient.

"She was the first woman you slept with?" Maura remembers asking.

"Yeah," Jane answered. "The only woman before you. And only one time."

Maura stands. "You need to go," she says to Chloe.

Chloe looks at her, imploring. "I never stopped thinking about you," she says to Jane. "When Connor died I-"

"No!" Maura and Jane say together, though it is Maura that continues. "Don't you dare," she hisses. "Whatever you are going to say has no relevance, because the fact remains you _didn't_ do it. You _didn't do it_."

Chloe sits back in the kitchen chair. She seems to be regrouping. Re-assessing.

 _She thought she'd just come back. Just offer this fix, and everything would be like it was_. The audacity of this woman's assumption makes her almost weak with fury.

"You need to leave," Maura says again, and Chloe stands slowly, nodding.

"Okay," she answers. "Okay…but…listen." She waits, but Jane doesn't look at her. She stands facing away. "Jane, please. I admit that I might have come here with ulterior motives, but these kids _need_ you. I've never been surer about anything in my life." She bends to pull two thick manila folders out of her bag, setting them on the table. "Please just look at them," she says again. And then, with a final look at Jane, she heads back towards the door.

.

They've skirted the issue of children on several occasions. They'd caught a case at the beginning of their relationship that involved the abduction of a child, and even though they'd found her and returned her safely to her parents, Jane had sworn at the end, "I am never having more kids."

Maura moved to put her hand on Jane's shoulder, trying not to let the alarm she'd felt show on her face.  
"Do you mean that?" she'd asked quietly, as they watched the reunited family hugging, each member struggling to tough every other person at once. "Do you think that will protect you?"

Jane had shifted her attention to look at Maura. She'd shaken her head.

"No."

Maura had not had the courage to ask to which question that had been the answer.

She catches Jane looking at the folders twice that day, the second time going so far as to lift the cover of the top one for a couple seconds.

Maura doesn't say anything about this directly, but when they settle together on the couch for the night, she massages the base of Jane's skull, and she says, "we can talk about it, Honey. If you like."

Jane's eyes flutter shut at the pressure of Maura's fingers. She takes a long time to answer.

"I asked her to be a second parent to Connor," she says, so quietly that Maura has to hold her breath so she can hear. "I asked her to adopt him. She said yes. We slept together, and when I woke up…" Jane trails off, but Maura hears the rest anyway.

 _She was gone._

Jane sighs. "I'm happy with you, Maura," she says after a beat. "I'm really, really happy with you. If you want it to just be us…then I want that too."

…

The third anniversary of Connor's death had been one of the hardest, because it was the year that Jane moved in with Maura. The year they'd had to decide what to do with all of the things still in his room.

"We can keep them," Maura said, and when she hadn't received any response. "We also don't have to."

Jane crossed her arms over her chest. "Keep them," she'd echoed, "like for another kid?"

Maura remembers it was nearly impossible to swallow. "Yes," she'd said. "Maybe. I have plenty of storage."

Jane had turned away. "Let's keep them then."

.

Now, in bed Maura slips her hands up under Jane's tank top, reading each subtle shift of her muscles. She straddles Jane's hips and kisses her neck and feels her press upwards, just the tiniest bit.

 _Yes. Yes, more._

Jane has not ever been overly vocal in bed. She is selfless, eager to please, but slow to ask for pleasure in return.

At last, Maura understands why.

She bends to kiss Jane's neck again, and again she gets the same tiny roll of the hips, an invitation if she's in tune enough to feel it. "I want you," she whispers against Jane's ear. "I want them."

Jane pulls in a deep breath. Her hands come to Maura's hips, but they don't instruct. So Maura rocks gently against Jane's pelvic bone, reading the way Jane's fingers contract or loosen.

"Maura," she breathes, just barely.

"You first," Maura says, pressing a little harder. "You first, tonight Jane. I want to see you."

Jane's hips jerk, her hands slip higher, and Maura knows she's found the right words, the right order, for soothing this particular wound.

"I want to watch you climax. I want to hear you. The way your brow furrows, when I start here," Maura shifts to put her hand on the inside of Jane's thigh, drawing a finger higher as she continues, "and end up here."

She gets nothing but a soft grunt in reply.

"Feel me, sweetheart. Feel how much I want you."

Jane obeys, sliding one hand in between Maura's legs, and letting out a swift puff of air when her fingers meet skin.

Maura leans forward to press their foreheads together. "Yes," she says. "Yours. Just yours, Jane, okay?"

She picks up her pace, matching the roll of her fingers to the shallow pant of Jane's breathing. She keeps talking, keeps whispering between their kisses, keeps moving against Jane's fingers.

"Maura," Jane says again, and the incline of her hips tells Maura she's close.

"Yes," Maura says against the side of her mouth. "Yes, right here. Let me see you come."

Jane's brow contracts. She moans, quiet. "Maura."

"Come on, honey," Maura urges.

Jane shuts her eyes. She slides one hand up into Maura's hair, and presses her hips up.

"Harder," She whispers. "Harder."

Maura hears herself make a noise like a growl. She does as Jane has asked, and is rewarded with another moan, deep and full.

"Mine," Jane pants. "Harder. Oh, God. I'm so…"

But she doesn't get any further, because Maura slips one finger inside of her and grinds the whole palm of her hand up, against Jane's core. She leans down, and she whispers. "All yours."

And Jane is undone.


	5. The End

4.

Maura had been sure that the sexiest form of Jane Rizzoli, was the one who had her heart completely set on winning. When they were four or five days into a case, so close that they could taste it, something about the detective would shift; her breathing would change. The way she slept at night would change. She would hold herself like some great jungle cat, just on the precipice of striking.

Maura thought that this was the sexiest her girlfriend would ever be.

But that was before she met Jane, the mother.

Sylvie Margot is the first to arrive, forty four days after Chloe shows up at Jane and Maura's house. It is a drizzly day in early June, and Maura just barely hears the rumble of Chloe's beat up Volvo as it pulls to the curb outside.

Jane has been pretending to watch TV in the sitting room, and she hears it too. They meet in the hall by the front door, and for a moment they just look at each other.

"You ready?" Jane asks.

"No," Maura says honestly. This has been her answer for the last forty four days.

Jane no longer looks hurt or scared by the response. "Are you sure you want this? With me?" She asks, they way she has been for the last month at least.

"Yes," Maura says, just as firmly. "I love you."

Jane smiles and pulls the door open. "I love you too."

It is just possible to make out the top of Sylvie's dark head in the back of the volvo. Chloe stands by the back window and speaks through the glass, coaxing.

Jane rolls her eyes.

"She should be in a booster," Maura murmurs, lifting a hand in greeting as Chloe turns to them.

"We have one," Jane says. She doesn't wave.

She hasn't warmed to Chloe, not even in the last two weeks of preparation, when they spoke on the phone at least every other day.

Chloe finally gives up on trying to get the little girl to let herself out of the car, and pulls the back door open herself.

"Sylvie," she says cheerfully, "You remember Doctor Isles and Detective Rizzoli? Remember a few weeks ago when they came to invite you and your sister to live with them?"

Sylvie slides out of the car and stands on the sidewalk. She doesn't look at any of them.

She is small for eight, with a delicate bone structure, like that of a bird. She is holding what looks to be a quilt square in both hands.

Her socks do not match.

"Do you want to say hello?" Chloe prompts, still in her overly cheerful voice.

Jane shoots her a glare. "It's okay," she says. She takes a step forward, and Sylvie takes a half step backwards. Jane squats, her immediate instinct to be less imposing.

"My name is Jane. Forget all that detective stuff." She points over her shoulder. "And that's Maura, Not doctor." She pauses, inspecting the little figure before her. "But neither of us mind if you don't say anything at all."

She stands and looks at Chloe, who still is not able to be in Jane's presence without flushing.

"She has bags?" Jane asks curtly.

Chloe looks for a moment like she doesn't speak English, before jumping into action. "Yes! She has one. I'll grab it."

Jane rolls her eyes at Maura, who hides a superior smile and gestures Sylvie towards the door. "Come on, darling," she says. "Let's get out of the rain."

"My sister was with me," Sylvie says as they head up the walk. She has the softest whisper of a voice, and Maura has to replay the words in her head to make sure she's heard them all.

"Your sister?" She asks gently.

Sylvie glances up at her, and then away. "My sister, Gemma," she says. "When I saw you. My sister was with me."

Maura reaches for Sylvie automatically as they climb the steps to the house. Her hand between the little girl's shoulder blades feels huge.

"That's right, honey," she says, pushing the door inwards. "And she'll be here again, really soon. I promise."

.

And so Maura inadvertently endears herself to Sylvie, when Gemma Margot arrives eight days later, thereby keeping Maura's promise. Sylvie is sitting at the kitchen table, tracing the lines on a page of her coloring book, whispering, "blue, blue, blue," when the telltale sound of the Volvo floats in through the open window.

Jane is sitting next to her, reading a case file, and Maura is filling in the Friday crossword, and when she looks up at the sound, it is to see Sylvie staring at her with wide awed eyes.

Jane grins, closing her folder. "I think that sound means that somebody's sister is here," she says playfully.

Sylvie looks at her, and then back at Maura. "Whose?" she whispers, concern flashing across her features.

Jane raises her eyebrows, but Maura doesn't miss a beat. "Yours," she says, standing. "Let's go see!"

They stand, and head to the doorway, and Sylvie lets go a little cry of delight when she sees Gemma emerging from the back of Chloe's car. She looks up at Maura for a nod of approval before jumping down the steps and sprinting towards her sister. Gemma is tall for 13, willowy and muscled. Chloe steps up to her and moves to reach in for her bag, and Gemma blocks her immediately.

"I got it," she snarls, and she throws Chloe such a Jane-like glare, that the social worker takes a couple steps back.

Jane chuckles. "Impressive," she murmurs to Maura. "I like her already."

Sylvie locks her older sister in a ferocious hug. "Gem," she whispers through her smile. "Gem! You came!"

"Of course I came, I said I would," she says. She kisses the top of Sylvie's head, and Maura thinks it's the way a parent might do so. She wonders again what she's gotten herself into.

"Hi Gemma," Jane says, and if she's nervous, there's no trace of it in her tone or her easy smile. "It's really great to see you again."

Gemma removes one arm from around her sister, and glares at Jane. "Whatever," she says.

It makes Maura flinch, but Jane nods pleasantly as though Gemma has responded in kind.

"Let's get you guys inside." Jane gestures towards the house, and as they start back up the sidewalk, Sylvie reaches tentatively for Maura's hand, but just as she's about to take it, Gemma reaches out and pulls Sylvie away by the shoulder.

"I'm here now," she says, with a look at Maura that is pointed enough to pierce her heart.

"Maura got me some coloring books," Sylvie says. "But I was waiting for you to do them. Planned the colors though."

Gemma smiles at her sister. "That's real good, Vivi," she says softly.

Sylvie glances at Maura, who smiles. "I missed you," she says quietly, as Jane pulls the door open for them. This makes Gemma's smile disappear. She glowers at Jane and guides her sister into the hallway, as though it is she who has been with them for eight days, and not Sylvie.

"You can't separate us," She says to Jane, each word wielded like a weapon. "I won't let anyone separate us again."

Jane puts her hand in the small of Maura's back as she steps through the door. "Neither will I, kid," she says simply. "Sylvie, you want to show Gemma the sheets and things you picked out for her at the store?"

Sylvie nods excitedly and tugs at Gemma's hand until the older girl lets herself be led towards the stairs.

"They're like the McNallys," Jane and Maura hear Sylvie say as they climb. "They're real nice, just like them."

Whatever Gemma says in return is unintelligible, but her tone is unmistakable: skepticism, pure and simple.

Jane kisses Maura just below the ear. "I love you," she whispers.

Maura smiles.

…

The girls reappear just before dinner. Sylvie waves at Maura and then at Jane from the threshold of the kitchen, but she doesn't approach, and Maura can't help but feel as though all of their progress over the last eight days has been a waste.

Jane has just finished setting the table, and Maura brings out the last dish as Gemma helps Sylvie into her seat at the table.

"How did you like your room?" Maura asks, she reaches for a spoon to start putting potatoes onto Sylvie's plate, but Jane's hand on her knee stops her.

Jane serves herself and then passes the bowl to Gemma, who serves Sylvie first, then herself.

"Gemma?" Jane prompts softly.

"Sylvie's going to sleep in my room with me," Gemma says argumentatively.

Jane nods, "That's fine," she says.

Gemma scowls. "I wasn't asking," she says, and this time, when Jane responds, there is just the tiniest bit of edge to her voice.

"And I wasn't fighting," she says slowly. "You and your sister are welcome to sleep anywhere in this house that you feel safe and comfortable."

Maura sees Sylvie looking back and forth between Jane and Gemma, her lower lip starting to tremble.

"It's alright, sweetheart," she says gently. "No one's upset."

But it is too late. Sylvie picks up her plate of food and slides down from her chair, disappearing from the kitchen with a sniff.

Gemma spares Jane and Maura one deep look of disgust, before pushing her chair back and hurrying after her.

Jane sighs, picking up her dinner plate.

Maura touches her on the arm before doing the same. "We anticipated this," she murmurs.

"I know," Jane takes a last swig of her drink. "But three days in a row at the table had me feeling hopeful."

They find Sylvie in her normal spot, behind the TV stand, pushed all the way back into the corner. Gemma is crouched in front of her, speaking quietly, though she falls silent when Jane and Maura settle on the floor too.

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously.

"Eating," Jane says, picking up a forkful of broccoli, looking at Gemma as if this is obvious.

"Sylvie doesn't want you here," Gemma hisses, and this time, Maura cannot help herself. The words leave her before she can check them.

"Everyone in this house gets a voice, Gemma," she says firmly.

Gemma looks outraged, but she turns to her sister, eyebrows up. "Tell them," she hisses, and her voice shakes with the effort of keeping it quiet.

Sylvie looks down at her plate, and Maura is just about to say that this is negating the whole idea of a 'safe space,' when Sylvie says, just above a whisper, "I do...want them to stay, Gemmie."

Maura looks, wide eyed, at Jane, but the detective's face is impassive. If she wants to jump and shout with joy the way Maura does, she is doing a really good job of hiding it.

Sylvie smiles shyly at Maura. "Will you tell a story, like last time?" she asks slowly.

Maura is so excited that she's been given permission to stay, that for a moment she doesn't fully understand the question. Had she told a story last evening at dinner? It seems like ages ago.

But Jane grins at her. "Yeah," she says with a little laugh, "tell us more fascinating facts about bacteria." She nudges Gemma gently with her elbow. "Go get your plate," she urges.

Gemma stares at Jane for a long moment. "Do you know why she's hiding?" she asks finally, still in her argumentative voice. "Do you even know anything?"

Jane shrugs her shoulders. "Does it matter?" she asks Gemma. She turns to Sylvie. "You can tell us," She says reassuringly. "You can tell us anything you like. But as long as you're safe and happy, we won't press you."

Maura wants to kiss her. She does, right where Jane's dimple is when she smiles. Both girls watch with dumbfounded expressions.

"Go get your plate," Jane says to Gemma with a nod. "Maura makes science sound like music."

Gemma gets up and walks slowly from the room. It takes her almost three minutes to return to the living room, and when she does, she seems startled that they are all still waiting for her, food untouched.

She plops cross-legged between Maura and Jane, and picks up a piece of bread. "K," she says after a moment. "I'm back."

Maura smiles at Jane. "Okay," she says. "Well yesterday, I was doing some follow up research at work…"

…

5.

Maura keeps a record of everything, writing it all in a spiral notebook she keeps by the side of her bed. She has a fear that she will forget the important things. That if one of the girl's asks her about something from their past, something that the four of them have done, she won't have the answer right there for them.

She doesn't want them to ever be uncertain again.

Jane kisses her, and pulls the covers around them at night, and tells her that uncertainty is part of being an adolescent.

Maura shakes her head, as much as she can with it pressed against Jane's shoulder. "You don't understand," she whispers. She's not angry, she's just stating the facts.

Jane knows loss, and fear, and pain that Maura cannot comprehend. But she doesn't know about this.

Jane is still for long enough that Maura thinks she's fallen asleep. Then she kisses the crown of Maura's head again. "You're right," she answers. "I don't." She squeezes Maura around the middle. "You'll help me," she says. "You'll help us."

Maura feels confident with Jane there. Even in the darkness.

...

She discovers that Sylvie needs glasses.

The little girl loves stories. She wants Maura to read to her during almost all of their downtime. Their trip to the bookstore for new material becomes an almost weekly routine, and as July rolls around, Gemma opts to stay home, letting the two of them go book shopping by themselves. Maura hugs Gemma good-bye, and she thinks maybe this time the hug Gemma returns is a little less grudging than usual.

She lets Sylvie lead the way in the store on each visit, praising every decision no matter what it is. But she notices the little girl squinting at the signs that point the way to the children's department, and she holds her back for a moment, kneeling so they are at eye-level.

"Sylvie," she says, watching the little girl bite her lip nervously. "Can you read these signs, sweetheart?" she points at the one above them.

Sylvie shuffles her feet. Maura sees her lip quiver, and resists the urge to pull her into a hug. She does what Jane has told her is best. "You can tell me the truth," she says. "I promise that I won't be upset. Just…take a couple deep breaths and tell me."

Sylvie takes two shuddering breaths that break Maura's heart. "I _could_ read it, Mo," she says apologetically. "If it was closer to me."

Maura nods. "Okay," she says, smiling brightly. "Let's go pick out some books, hmm?"

Sylvie lights up as Maura stands. She takes the doctor's hand without invitation. "Really?" she asks excitedly. "I can still have one?"

Maura nods. "Yes," she says. "And when we get home, we'll talk to Jane about getting you some glasses."

Sylvie swings Maura's hand in both of her own, smiling up at her. "You know," she says happily, "Your and Jay's house is my favorite of all the houses. Even the McNallys."

Maura remembers the name from the file. She remembers that it had been about to become a permanent home for the girls until a drunk driver had taken the husband, and the grieving wife had found out that she was pregnant with the child they'd never expected to have.

Their next string of homes had not been as kind to them.

Maura, with a little difficulty, manages to only nod at this information. "I'm glad," she says. "You and Gemma can stay with us for as long as you want. Jane and I both love you very much."

They have both said it before, during bedtime routines and school drop-offs.

 _Jane and I love you, we'll be here at 3:30._

 _Good-night, you two. Maura and I love you lots and lots. We'll see you in the morning unless you need anything._

But this time, Sylvie stops walking, both of her hands still holding onto Maura's. She looks up into the doctor's face, her expression solemn.

"I love you too, Maura," she says seriously. "Is that okay?"

.

They come home hours later, laden with shopping bags, and Sylvie's worried expression fades to relief and then delight when Jane and Gemma meet them in the front hall and the former bursts into laughter.

"Did you leave anything in the store?" She asks, still smiling, hugging Sylvie and kissing Maura on the cheek.

"We got things for you, Gemma!" Sylvie pipes up. "And something for you too, Jane!"

Jane looks extra excited for Sylvie's benefit. "That is super thoughtful of you, babe! Thank you!"

Sylvie runs off towards the stairs. "C'mon, Gem!" she cries excitedly. "Come see all the new stuff! I got some things for you too!"

Gemma starts after her sister, but she stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns back to face Jane and Maura.

"Um...thanks," she says to Maura's chin. "That was, um, really nice."

Maura beams at her, and Gemma smiles back.

" _Gemma_ ," Sylvie calls from upstairs, and the teenager rolls her eyes, and turns away for good.

Jane snakes an arm around Maura's waist. "That was, um, like, really nice," she says, mocking Gemma.

Maura laughs, and then finds there are tears in her eyes. "I'm taking her to get glasses tomorrow," Maura says thickly. "And she said she loves me."

…

Gemma finds them a month later, after Sylvie's gone down to bed. She slides into the sitting room, dressed for bed, hair in a loose ponytail.

"Hey," she says to her feet.

Jane puts aside her work and sits up. "Hey, Gemma," she says with a smile. "What's up?"

Gemma bites her lip, then shoves her hands in the pockets of her sweats. "So...I'm making this dumb model for school," she mumbles, "And like...I keep telling Sylvie not to touch it, but she doesn't listen."

Maura opens her mouth to reply, but Jane shakes her head discreetly.

"My little brother once kicked over a model of the space station that I'd been working on for like three weeks. I almost killed him," she says.

Gemma nods vigorously at this anecdote. "Yeah!" she says with more enthusiasm than Maura's ever seen. She looks at Maura, and then at Jane as though she is really seeing them for the first time. As though she is just now realizing that the people she's met over the last six weeks are Jane's family and friends.

"Uh...which one?" she asks after a moment, taking a step a little closer.

"Tommy," Jane says, easily. "My mom made me share a room with him until I was like, sixteen."

Gemma makes a face that makes Jane chuckle. "Yeah," she says, nodding. "It was rough."

Maura watches Gemma consider Jane for a long time, clearly trying to decide something. Jane lets the silence sit, seemingly unbothered.

"So...the room that Sylvie stayed in, before I got here," Gemma begins, and Maura has to work hard to hold herself still when she realizes the direction this conversation is taking. "That's like...hers right?"

"Yeah," Jane says. "There's a guest house in case anyone comes to stay, so you two get your own rooms." She snorts at this. "Luckies."

Gemma grins, but it fades after a moment. "Whenever we were together, we never slept alone," she says quietly. And now she comes all the way into the room, sitting down when Jane gestures to the ottoman. "I always promised her. It was like...a pact we made."

"Yeah," Jane says. "I get that. It's hard to take care of someone when you're not sure what's going to happen. And you take really good care of her, Gemma. That's clear."

"You took care of your brothers a lot?"

Jane smiles. "Yeah. And sometimes I just wanted to…" Jane makes a vague gesture with her hands, and Maura sees Gemma watching them. Looking at the scars on the back of her hands.

"I just wanted to be a kid," Jane says. "Even though I love them more than anything."

Gemma nods. "Do you think I'd be a bad sister if I told her she's gotta go back to her room?"

The question is so earnest, that Maura can't help smiling.

Jane manages not to. "You could never be a bad sister," Jane says, and she waits until Gemma looks up at her. "Never."

Gemma smiles into her lap before getting up. "Thanks, Jane," she says.

"Anytime, kid," Jane says. "You heading to bed? There's no more of that horrible Algebra to do tonight, is there?"

Gemma makes a noise that might be half of a laugh. "Math isn't so bad," she says quietly.

Maura perks up. "That's my girl," she says.

Gemma looks at her, eyes wide, for a split second before turning away. "K," she says. "I'll tell her...tomorrow."

"Night, Gemma," Jane says, leaning back into the couch. "We love you."

"Yeah," Gemma calls from the hall. "Me too."

Maura waits until she hears the door upstairs shut to climb onto Jane's lap and kiss her hard.

"What's that for?" Jane asks when she pulls away.

"Seeing you as a mother," Maura says, sliding her hands onto Jane's stomach. "It's sexy."

Jane just growls.

6.

…

Maura thinks that it takes Jane an amazing amount of restraint to not slam the door. She shuts it carefully, like it's made of glass, and then rests her hand against it, breathing hard.

"It will go better next time," Maura says, stepping up to put a hand on Jane's arm.

"I said they weren't ready," Jane says through gritting teeth. She is still leaning against the door, eyes closed. "I told them we needed to wait."

"You know we couldn't have asked them to wait any longer. Especially not Addison."

Jane doesn't answer, and Maura rubs her hand up and down her arm. "She got so much of your attention and love, Jane, and she needed to see where you were putting some of that energy now."

Jane opens her eyes, turning to face Maura. "I don't remember kids being so cruel when I was young," she says lowly, running a hand through her hair.

Maura smiles sadly. "You were pretty and sporty…I don't think you had the opportunity to experience the cruelty children are capable of.

Jane reaches out her arms and pulls Maura to her. "Did I do the right thing?" she asks.

Maura slips her arms under Jane's and up around her shoulders. She thinks of Jane's face as she'd stepped between Addison and Gemma, both of them looking like they were ready to jump at the other.

"What is going on?" She'd yelled.

"I DON'T WANT HER," Gemma was yelling. "YOU CAN HAVE HER. I DON'T WANT TO BE A PART OF YOUR FUCKING FAMILY ANYWAY. YOU'RE A FREAK."

Addison's face had gone as red as the front door of the Bartlett home, but her voice had been very calm and even as she'd replied.

"Well at least that's better than an orphan that nobody wants to take care of."

"Addison has a mother," Maura says quietly, because she knows that Jane is remembering the way she'd yelled at her. The way she'd put her arm around Gemma and yelled at Addison for saying such calculatedly cruel things.

How she'd turned on the spot and left the Bartlett's, Maura following close behind with Sylvie.

"Addison has a mother, and it's not you, Jane. No matter how much she may wish it sometimes." She presses a kiss to Jane's shoulder.

"You did the right thing. You'll keep doing the right thing. I know it."

There is the sound of a door slamming upstairs. The ride home had been prickly with silence, and the moment they'd gotten inside, Gemma had stormed upstairs to her room, Sylvie following behind her as fast as she can.

Jane pulls away, and looks at the ceiling, like she can see through into Gemma's room.

"Okay," she says with a deep breath. "Let's go."

…

Sylvie's door is open, and so that is where they stop first. They peek into the room, and see the little girl standing by her dresser. Her back is to them, but her shoulders are shaking, and she sniffles every so often.

"Sylvie?" Maura calls, and the little girl turns around at her name. She is clutching her worn quilt square, and her eyes are red from crying. "Honey," Maura says, stepping quickly into the room. "What's wrong?"

Sylvie takes a deep breath. "G-g-gemma says I can't take everything w-with me, and I-I-I don't know what to bring because I like it all a lot."

She bursts into tears, and it's Jane, who moves across the room to scoop her up in her arms. She sits down on the bed with Sylvie in her lap and strokes her hair.

"Where are you going, bug?" she asks softly.

Sylvie clings to Jane. "Gem says you're going to give us back," she says, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. "I'm sorry we were bad at the party."

Jane wraps her arms around Sylvie so that she almost disappears in her hug. "You weren't bad, Vee," she says. "And even if you or Gemma were to do something wrong, we would never send you away. That's not how families work."

Sylvie presses her face to Jane's chest, still holding tight. "Gemma says we aren't your family. She says we're just stand ons."

Jane's jaw tightens. Maura sees her physically restrain herself from tensing. Instead she stands with Sylvie in her arms as though she weighs nothing. "Let's go talk to Gemma," she says. "clear everything up,"

As she walks to the door, where Maura is still standing, Sylvie reaches out her arms for a hug.

"Mo?"

"It's going to be okay, darling," Maura says, a little shakily. "Jane and I love you and your sister so much. Nothing you do could change that."

Sylvie burrows back into Jane, but she nods. "Okay."

.

Maura doesn't get an answer when she knocks on Gemma's door across the hall, so – at a nod from Jane – she pushes the door inward.

Gemma is in the middle of her room, open duffle bag on the floor beside her. She's staring at the door as it opens, and then she fixes Jane with a withering glare.

"You can't keep her," she says.

Jane stands for a beat with Sylvie in her arms, just sizing the teenager up, then she shifts Sylvie towards Maura. "Go to Maura, sweetheart," she says, when Sylvie clings tighter.

"No!"

"Vee, go to-"

"No!" Sylvie cries again.

Maura puts her hands on Sylvie's back, fighting against the tears in her eyes.

"Sylvie," Jane says, still as gentle as ever. "I need to talk to Gemma, now. Go to Mommy. She'll hold onto you. I promise."

The word slips from Jane's mouth so easily that Maura doesn't initially realize why she has chills. Sylvie does as she says, shifting herself into Maura's arms, and wrapping her arms around the doctor's neck.

"Mommy," she mumbles against Maura's cheek.

Jane turns back to face Gemma. "We're not sending you back," she says evenly. "There's nothing you could do that could make us want to."

Gemma scoffs at this. "You're a liar," she says, and it's clear that she's trying not to cry. She wants to project only anger and strength.

It makes Maura feel weak with affection for her.

"I'm not lying."

"Yes you are. You're just looking for a replacement for your dead kid." Maura sees Jane's hands curl. Gemma doesn't miss it either. Fear flickers across her face for a split second, before it is replaced by determination. "Well I'm not his replacement and neither is my sister."

"Gemma," Jane begins, but the girl shakes her head, wiping away an escaping tear with the back of her hand.

"No!" She says, voice rising in an attempt to keep her anger. "You can't deny it. You just got us because your son died. You don't really care about us."

"Yes I do," Jane says.

"How come you never say you love us?" Gemma counters, and Jane frowns at her.

"I say it all the time," she says, confused.

"No you don't!" Gemma yells. " _Maura_ says it all the time. She says I. Love. You. Just like that. You haven't said that _you_ love us. Not once. And that's because you _don't._ You still love _him._ "

Jane works her jaw. She repeats Maura's reassurance from before Gemma and Sylvie arrived. "I can do both," she says. Her voice is on the razor's edge of anger.

"Maybe with Addison," Gemma says the other girl's name with open disgust. "But not with us. How come you never talk about him?" She states the question like a challenge.

Jane does not answer. She is speechless.

Gemma crosses her arms, but she doesn't look satisfied. The gesture is protective, not aggressive. "How come you never talk about him?" she asks again. "But you always say that Sylvie and me can talk about our mom whenever we feel like it. You always say we can talk about the things that scare us, but you never talk about your scary stuff."

Jane is as pale as one of the bodies in Jane's morgue. "I want you two to know that it's safe here."

"You want to erase those memories," Gemma says, like a correction.

"No," Jane says, "I don't."

"Yes, you do. But you can't. I won't do it. I won't lose her, and I won't let Sylvie either."

In Maura's arms, Sylvie sniffs, trying to push further into her arms.

"Jane," Maura says quietly, but Gemma moves at that moment, trying to push past them out into the hall.

Jane blocks her way. "No," she says firmly. "If you want to leave, that's one thing, but you don't just get to walk out."

"What do you care?" Gemma asks. Movement seems to have shaken the tears loose. They roll down her cheeks and drip from her chin.

Jane puts her arms around her, half a hug, half a restraint. "No," she says, again. "No."

"Get off me," Gemma cries, though she no longer seems to fighting it.

Jane wraps her tighter.

"Get off me! You're not my fucking mother!"

Jane flinches, but doesn't let go. She drops her chin onto Gemma's shoulder, and one tear rolls down her cheek too.

"And you're not my fucking son," she growls.

…

…

Jane holds out her right hand to Sylvie, palm up, offering it for inspection. She takes it tentatively and touches one finger to the raised scar in the center.

On her left, Gemma is already inspecting the other side of Jane's hand, brow furrowed.

"Did it hurt?" Sylvie asks in a whisper. She's sitting in the open circle left my Maura's crossed legs, and when she's looked her fill, she drops Jane's hand and presses backwards, against the doctor's chest.

It's past 11:30 at night, but she's still wide awake. They all are.

"Yeah," Jane says, nodding. "And sometimes they still hurt a little."

"I have a scar on my shoulder from where a boy we were living with bit me one time," Sylvie says. "But it doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good," Jane says. She glances at Gemma, who is still looking at her hand.

"So," Jane glances at Maura, and then around at Gemma. "You guys know how, when you lost your mom, they told you that it was okay to feel whatever you were feeling?"

Gemma nods, and Sylvie does too. "The doctor said that, 'member Gem?"

"The psychiatrist," Gemma says. "Yeah."

Jane nods. "My psychiatrist said that too, when I lost Connor. Everyone said it. A lot. And my Ma, and the people I work with. They said all the things that I bet people said to you."

"It will get easier," Gemma says with a snort.

Jane smiles. "One day at a time."

"Be happy you have each other."

Jane touches Gemma's knee gently. "Exactly. And they repeated and repeated it, but as time went on, I felt like…the way they were saying it got…" Jane trails off.

"Impatient," Maura says quietly, and Jane and Gemma nod at the same time.

"Like they think I shouldn't be hurting anymore," Jane says. "Like I should be over it."

"But that was your baby," Sylvie says.

"And it was your mommy," Jane responds. "And, I'm really, really sorry if I made you feel like you should forget about her. I know how that feels, and I wanted the opposite for the two of you."

Gemma is crying again. Jane's hand is still on her knee, and the girl reaches out and takes it in hers.

"Addi said you wouldn't love us like you loved her because we didn't have any connection."

Jane shakes her head. "She's wrong," she says simply. "And when we go over to apologize for the way we spoke to her, we'll have that conversation as well."  
"I got jealous," Gemma says. "And scared."

Jane pulls Gemma's head closer so she can kiss her temple. "I know both of those emotions really well," she says. "It's okay."

"Is he dead?" Gemma asks shakily. "The man who killed Connor? Who did that to your hands?"

Jane nods. "Yes."

"Good," Sylvie says from Maura's lap. She is finally starting to get sleepy. Maura rocks her gently.

"Time for sleep, honey? This has been a long, long night."

Sylvie nods, but doesn't let go. "I want to stay with you." she rubs her eyes. "I want to stay with you and Jane."

"Me too," Gemma says, though she means something different from her sister. "Can we? I mean. Do you think it will work?"

Maura starts to struggle up from the floor, Sylvie still clinging to her like an oversized sloth.

Jane stands too, waiting until Gemma is up and facing her to answer.

"Yes," she says quietly. "I love you. And I love your sister, and I love Maura. And this is the family I want."

Sylvie's eyes are closed, but she grins from Maura's shoulder. "Hooray," she says sleepily.

Gemma hugs Jane. Hard. She says something into the folds of Jane's sweatshirt, but Maura cannot make it out.

Jane whispers back to her, squeezing back just as tight.

"I'm here," she says. "It's going to be okay."

…

They tuck them into bed side by side in their room, promising to be back within the hour, and after she's flicked the light, Maura stands in the hall, listening to her children whispering in the darkness of her room.

Jane takes her hand. "Maura," she says, tugging her towards the stairs. "Come downstairs for a while, I want to talk to you."

Maura lets herself be lead downstairs. In the hallway by the kitchen Maura stops, waiting until Jane turns to her.

"Maura,"

"Call Chloe in the morning," she says. "Tell her there's no more trial period."

"Okay," Jane says with a smile.

"Promise."

"I promise." Jane steps up to her. "Now shh, so I can kiss you."

Maura smiles. She lets the kiss linger.

"Remember that day you first invited me in?" Jane asks quietly. "Remember? The rain?"

Maura doesn't think she'll ever forget. "Yes. I was so afraid you wouldn't go out. And then I was afraid that if I didn't go, you'd be there and you'd think I valued being dry over you."  
"I thought," Jane looks away for a moment, and then back. "I thought, if I go out today, and she's there, I'll try and get closer. It will prove that she cares about me, and I'll…"

"Me too," Maura says, grinning.

"But you're braver than me. You asked to me to come in."

"You did it. That makes you brave too."

Jane runs a hand through her hair. "I've never asked you to…" she falters, and then recovers. "You've always just seemed to know what I need. Last year on Connor's…That scrap book. I couldn't have verbalized that need. And you just seemed to know."

Maura doesn't answer. There's doesn't seem to be a need to.

"Loving you was like the first thing I did for myself in forever. Just letting myself love you. And I told myself that I would just do it. And it wouldn't be betraying him because if you loved me back, you would have loved him."

"I would have _loved_ him," Maura echoes. She is sure of it.

"And the same with the Bartletts. It wasn't betrayal, because…because," her voice breaks, but she shakes her head when Maura reaches for her. "No. I'm…It was fine because he was inside her. He still is, even though she's herself now, too."

Maura just nods.

"So…please tell me that how I feel about those two isn't betraying him." She looks at Maura, all dark, imploring eyes. "I want this family. So badly, Maura."

Maura swallows. "I read his autopsy," she says finally.

Jane just blinks at her.

"Frost asked me to. Before I met you. Before the funeral. He came and asked me to read it. To make sure that Dr. Pike had done a thorough job."

Jane shakes her head. "Frost never said…"

"So I know everything," Maura says over her. "I know the wounds he sustained. I know what you did to your hands to get to him when he stopped making noise, and I know how long you gave him CPR, to keep his heart beating, even though you were dying too, Jane."

Jane leans against the wall, and covers her mouth with her hand. Maura steps up to her, she presses her forehead to the taller woman's shoulder.

"And that kind of love can't be locked away. It can't just be shoved aside because the person who earned it first is gone. The real betrayal to Connor would be to let the love you have to give stay hidden. To let it eat away at you until you're nothing."

Jane shivers, and Maura kisses the shoulder closest to her mouth.

"It's going to be okay," she says. "You and me, those little girls…we're going to be okay. And that's not betrayal, honey. That's justice."

As if in answer to this declaration, There is a thump from upstairs, and then the sound of tiny feet on the hardwood of the hallway.  
"Mommy?" A whisper floats down to them. Sylvie, on the top landing, her head through the bars of the railing.

"Mommy? Mama J?" she calls, "Has it been within a hour yet?"

Maura stifles a laugh against Jane's chest.

"Coming, love," Jane calls back quietly. "We'll be right there."


End file.
